She Called Out A Warning
by Eleven Roses
Summary: Miranda Irving is Kurt Angle's new manager, one with a shifty past that he wants to discover. R&R is appreciated!
1. What Do You Mean By That?

Disclaimer: Not one of these! Ahh! Listen, we all know I don't own them, if I did then my last name would be McMahon. Which it isn't. It's Smith. Well, now that we all know each other, go ahead and read. This one time disclaimer is enough already. I don't own them!  
  
Author's Note: I'm back again! This one is going to start in a way like "Wildcat," just for that deja vu feeling, but don't worry- it's going to be a very different story. No real notes this time, except for one: this will not star Dani or Shane, but it will have a new girl that I think you'll like, and a WWE Superstar who you'll never guess. *evil grin* Ok, maybe you will, but it's still a surprise.  
  
New Readers (yes, I'm hopeful) won't have to read Wildcat to understand this story! I'm not really calling this a sequel, because the lead characters from the last story probably won't show up a lot. It's just another story, that happens to have a few of the same people. That's it, I'll stop rambling now. :p Eleven Roses.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Tuesday, May 14th, 2002.  
  
She walked at a powerful pace, black heels striking the floor without mercy, and stopped for nothing. Unnerving in her all-dark dress but with an alluring cloud around her, a confident smile played on pouted lips as she memorized every detail around her. The shining floors and dull paint, all light colours of course- it didn't take much for dark eyes to roll in her head. The entire building screamed perfection, this company wanted something that didn't exist. Not that she didn't like that thought, a company where nothing could go wrong, but a dose of reality was definitely due.  
  
The sober mind screamed realist inside the body of a devil, and a glint of determination glowed behind thin glasses. If this family wanted perfection, or something so close it would make your mind spin with excitement, she would give it to them. She knew she could, she'd except nothing less and never had. That's why she was there.  
  
No overwhelming challenge faced her, no twenty metre high wall was blocking her goal, this was to be the kind of place where she could have "just another day in the office." A talent manager, not the on stage in front of screaming people kind, but the slightly quirky type who sat behind a computer all day and did what they had to do: manage. This dark haired woman was ready for that, she had been doing it her entire life. Taking care of business, giving orders, and- most importantly- never backing down.  
  
Speaking of her "day in the office," there was the door now. No pause for last minute adjustments, she was much too bold for that, and the door swung open effortlessly. She smiled into aged eyes- surely this man was getting a little old for this business- and wasn't shocked with the continued melancholy of the room.  
  
"Mr. McMahon," she said coolly. "It's nice to finally meet you face to face." She knew his name and took a firm handshake, looking every inch the polite new girl at the office, but overflowing with surprising intimidation. He smiled- apparently he knew the game all too well- and offered her a seat.  
  
"Welcome to World Wrestling Entertainment, Ms. Irving. We've been very anxious for you to arrive." He sat across from her, leaning onto the table in a gesture that she gladly didn't return, and held a file underneath his hands. "I'm sorry everyone couldn't be here, this meeting was scheduled on very short notice."  
  
Nodding, she glanced down the long, empty, black table. "I noticed," she said simply, and he almost frowned. Caught himself in time though- did he think I looked like a talker?- and slid the file over to her. "What's this? His file?"  
  
"I assumed that, since he won't be here for a while, you might want to get a slight idea of who he is, Ms. Irving." The graying man shrugged, and she barely opened the cover.  
  
"Miranda," she shot back a bit too quickly- didn't want to bring up memories of who used to call her by last name- and then dropped the folder closed. "I've already read over his basics, although I haven't gotten the slightest idea of how easy he is to work with."  
  
Mr. McMahon laughed at that. "He's very good at what he does, and when he puts his mind to something- there's no stopping him. From what I can see, you two should get along very well." He paused and reached into his pocket, pulling out reading glasses and resting them on his nose, adjusting them with a fingertip before continuing. "I have no doubt that he will be agreeable and respectful of your position as his new manager, he was the most desperate out of us all to fill the position with someone more... trustworthy."  
  
She looked at him over the rims of her glasses and furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean by that? I'm a bit unsure of the details of Mr. Hopper's departure." It was a lie and they both knew it, but she had only been fed what they felt she needed to know- and she wanted to know more. This past manager might still be important.  
  
"The confidentiality clause was broken surrounding many contracts, and over three months of storylines and outcomes were released to the highest bidder... two months in advance. As you've probably heard, the WWE prides itself on keeping the viewers hooked, and his actions were less than helpful."  
  
"He controlled more than one of your athletes?" Miranda glanced back down at the file, there was one new item she hadn't known. "Not to criticize, but why was someone who had only worked with the company for..." she searched her memory quickly, "two years given that much of a responsibility?"  
  
He didn't say anything, just stared at her for a moment before coughing roughly. She should've been a lawyer, that's what everyone said, that's what her par... She blinked quickly. Don't go there.  
  
Mr. McMahon had recovered by then and tried to act casual, not surprised, and completely unlike he looked. "Alan was an amazing worker," he said simply. "He could handle them all with no problems, and there wasn't a person who ever met him that didn't like him. That responsibility was well- earned, let me tell you that, Miranda. In the end, though, I believe the stress caught up with him and he was desperate to relieve it." He leaned forward slightly- would he soon lay on the table?- and met her eyes seriously. "I expect you will have no trouble with the good and bad working aspects of this position?"  
  
She met his eyes and almost grinned. "You can't possibly believe working with this company could be without problems, but I assure you that I can handle anything you throw at me. Even if it's enough to drive most people insane."  
  
"Good."  
  
Miranda turned at that one word, how could anyone sound so self-assured and have so much attitude laced into such a pleasant word? He certainly did fit the character in his voice, that was for sure. Strong built, almost so much that it started to look bad but not quite, and short hair. Almost like an army cut, very disciplined looking overall.  
  
"Ah, you're here. Miranda," Mr. McMahon motioned to her, "this is who you will be managing."  
  
The stranger smiled, was his comment a joke? It must've been, his eyes went relaxed instantly and he offered a hand. She took it, but not after standing up. The intimidation factor, only slightly hampered by his over 6 foot height, still did nothing. Clear blue eyes met hers warmly, and she lowered her eyebrows.  
  
"Miranda," he said, "My new manager. Nice to meet you." She nodded slightly and removed her hand, and he looked slightly put off. Guess he's not as famous as he thinks he is. "I'm Kurt Angle," he added, and she sat back down silently.  
  
She glanced back up at him once, confused, and looked at him. Tall, light hair, very catching eyes, and a huge neck. So, this is Kurt Angle. "My pleasure," she replied, more out of formality than anything else. "I trust you're okay with having a new manager, from what I've heard."  
  
Kurt grinned, wide and openly. "If you're game, so am I."  
  
~~~~~ 


	2. A Hair Vs Hair Match

Author's Note: So, whaddya think? I'm going to switch POV's from now on, whenever I feel like it, and if I get on a really big sugar high I'll write from the stapler's view of things. I hope it doesn't come to that... so go read now!  
  
~~~~~  
  
The office was small, crowded, and more of those pale walls that threatened to make Miranda go blind. Not that she was an overly neat or creative person, but even she knew that this was terrible. It needs some black, maybe a curtain or something, and a plant that can... well, sit there in the corner until I forget to water it. Nice, home touches, she thought casually, and then froze. That was exactly what she didn't want, any more reminders in her life that would make her mind go falling back. Did that enough anyway.  
  
She threw her bag onto the desk and walked around it, taking in every inch of the room. Her new space, where she would work and survive in solitude, planning the future of another person. A future that involved his involvement in brutal- completely fake- matches against other equally steroid-induced muscle men. Almost smiling, she went to the only window and opened it. She was almost excited, anxious, never nervous of course, to meet the people who made this company so well known. Grandparents talked about watching wrestling in old arenas, and elementary students ran around telling people to smell what they were cooking. What an odd bunch of people indeed.  
  
One of them was, for certain, a unique person. Kurt Angle had already managed to make her think he was on steroids, spineless, and almost normal, all within a ten minute meeting. What he'd be like in a normal situation, day to day life, she didn't know. What sane person would want to become that involved in their work? It was just that, work. She'd be damned if she even made friends with him, unless he turned out to be likeable, because friendship was nothing in the world of business. Absolutely nothing, and that's what she was good at.  
  
She sighed and fell into the seat, crossing her legs at the ankle and pushing hair behind her ear with one hand. Might as well get more acquainted with my client. Sliding the clasp of her carrying case open and pulling out the desired folder, Miranda opened to the first page. A standard picture, boring but showing startling blue eyes, and a simple profile. Rolling her eyes, and turned to the next sheet. Statistics didn't mean anything, if she wanted to know Kurt's height then she'd stand next to him and guess. Which she'd already done, just for her own curiosity.  
  
She'd forced herself to sit down and watch that past Thursday's show. Never being a soap opera fan, she practically had to tie herself to the seat. They had a pattern on Smackdown, that was for sure. Talk for a while, which made no sense to her because she'd never seen a show and didn't know the storylines, and then fight. After that, the loser would get mad and, most often, a rematch or some other match against the winner and his friends was made. What kept people coming back? Soon, Miranda would have a chance to find out for herself.  
  
Having control over Kurt Angle's contract and wrestling matches meant one thing: she knew what was going to happen. Maybe that would help her understand, having that inside view couldn't possibly hurt. The next section of his folder certainly helped that, in a way any woman would understand. There were pictures of his various gimmicks, past events, and every fan favorite finishing move. Speaking of hurt, these looked to be as harmless as mouse. One in particular caught her eye, Kurt and an black- suited opponent in the ring.  
  
Kurt was holding his ankle and turning the foot somewhat, holding his opponent's body off the mat and twisting his features like he was putting superhuman strength into this... twisted ankle. The other man's expression was even worse, like he was going through childbirth, getting teeth pulled, and paying child support at the same time. It looked almost pathetic, this was the kind of thing that sold as a big-time wrestling move?  
  
Focusing in on Kurt and sliding down in her chair, she shook her head slowly. Maybe this wasn't going to be the boring repetition day job she had thought it would be. He looked good in tights, definitely a perk, and the inner workings of the business had to be interesting. How could one man rule this many people and so many fans? Subliminal messages, she thought dryly. There had to be something going on.  
  
From what she had been told, Mr. McMahon's company had been going through a lot of changes lately. An on-show split into two shows with different sets of performers, giving the coveted Monday night Raw slot to an eccentric Ric Flair, and a lawsuit with ithe other/i WWF, resulting in a name change. She was in WWE, World Wrestling Entertainment, and about to--  
  
"Miss Irving? Sorry to bother you, but your presence is needed at a meeting."  
  
She nodded and stood up, finally some action to be in. Grabbing her case and slinging it over her arm, she walked over to the- she thought- secretary. "Just show me where to go," she said quickly. Let the action begin.  
  
~~~~~  
  
He hated this. Not the performing, no, that was what he had been born to do. These, the meetings beforehand that planned out his future, were tedious. Why am I even here? It's not like Vince needs my opinion- or really wants it- when he makes these matches. Just get the story writer's idea, make sure it's catchy enough, and then make the plans with Alan... wait, make them with the new manager.  
  
Kurt raised his eyebrow when she chose that moment to walk in, things happening like that too often would be unnerving. His new manager looked very business oriented, good too, and he'd never seem a woman who went to those lengths to intimidate the opposite sex. It was a nice change from the people in WWE, so much different from the flirty secretary who only noticed men from the neck down, and the certain divas who wanted to put out for anyone.  
  
He knew one thing already, Miranda Irving was no petty diva. Slightly goth though, he could picture her easily as a teenager with black nails and lipstick, and now she seemed to carry on that tradition. Black skirt- long, thank god she wasn't another one of "those female employees"- and a black jacket to cover her arms. Add the dark brown hair, and she looked... dangerous. Even her eyes seemed so hidden, so deep that he couldn't tell their colour. Dark brown, he guessed.  
  
She sat across from him, giving him only a passing glance, and she might've even looked scared to someone who didn't know her. For some reason, Kurt knew that look, and he knew what it meant. Brooding yet interested, she didn't feel it was of any value to speak or use any other pleasantries. That look fit her too well. Now, he thought, where do I remember that from?  
  
"I'm glad we're all here," Vince began, pausing to look at the very late Miranda. "We've got some important business with Kurt's contract to discuss, some basic signatures to change, and a new little idea to plan." Some of the men in the room nodded, giving each other looks of "what has he got planned now?" Kurt looked to Miranda for a reaction, but she sat silent, taking it all in. Did she ever talk? He'd barely heard ten words from her earlier, but was surprised by her strong tone. She definitely wasn't shy.  
  
Vince had started rambling again, and Kurt watched him as he spoke. His contract had to be resigned, that was expected, because of Miranda, and apparently a few new security clauses were now added. If she pulls the same stunt as Alan, Vince is going to sue her for all she's got. He didn't think she had much, there was a look about her that suggested experience, but not the high-paying kind. Secretary, filing, other plain things like that which could give knowledge if one looked for it- she probably had- but had no possibility for good wages.  
  
Kurt eyed her obliviously, and didn't look up until his contract was shoved under his face. He signed quickly, and then it was slid over to Miranda. Her signature was bold and readable, yet tiny like it wanted to hide something. He held back a sigh. Don't turn all suspicious on yourself, Kurt. Even though she could be another workaholic who ends up going mad and selling all your secrets. Miranda didn't look like she would, that aura of stone seemed like nothing could break it- for the time being, anyway- and if she could look like she was hiding something that expertly, she probably was. At least she could keep a secret... or at least look like she was.  
  
"I know you're going to think this a bit odd, Kurt," looking up at the mention of his name, Kurt watched Vince now, "but we've got an idea that will really get the crowd going. It's basically an extension on the whole 'hair vs hair' match, which- as previously discussed- you will be losing."  
  
Miranda's eyes shot up, and everyone who saw that action knew what she was thinking. What's a 'hair vs hair' match? Vince, however, didn't see her, and he continued.  
  
"After you lose that match, the next Thursday night, you'll be at the arena with... a wig. One that is obviously fake, but you'll say it's real anyway. It's going to be the start of a big 'take the wig off Angle' plot with Edge. He won and shaved you, but now he can't have the satisfaction of seeing you bald."  
  
Kurt had to smile. "They're going to hate me," he said with a shake of his head. "The fans are going to go absolutely nuts."  
  
Grinning, Vince nodded back at him. "That's what we want. They'll watch for weeks on end to see if you lose the wig, and to see if Edge has the privilege of taking it. We still need to decide on a good way to keep the wig on your head, we don't want anyone to see the baldness until we're ready to show it. I think we may fit you with some sort of headgear," everyone's eyebrows raised at this, "to keep it secure."  
  
"Headgear?" one of the executives repeated. "Wouldn't that make him look like... well, even more of a dork?" The younger man smiled at his own comment, and Kurt felt Miranda look at him to check how true it was. Feeling suddenly self conscious, Kurt gave the man a casual stare to hide it.  
  
"I get paid to look like a dork, it's more entertaining," he said, and no one missed the double meaning. It had the same effect as dancing on the table chanting 'you're a dork and so am I, but I get paid to be one, so hahaha.' This time, he couldn't hide the grin that lit up his broad features.  
  
The executive gave him no reply, and the meeting continued in all its tedious glory. He was going to wear a wig, after his head was shaved by the still long-haired Edge, and say it was his own real hair. Supplements maybe, like a Chia pet on his head. Knowing Vince, he'd probably be lucky if he got something looking half as good as a ball of grass. Kurt glanced over at Miranda again, had she just said something? Whatever it was, he missed it.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"So, he's in a... hair vs HAIR match?" The tall blonde named Jayden, usually her hair was dyed a shining black, looked at Miranda with wide eyes. She had been Miranda's friend through the years, having met in junior high when both were tormented for dying their hair black and other wild colours, and had been inseparable ever since. Jayden had just enough life to bring out Miranda's louder side, not too often though, and Miranda proved to be the all too realistic one. She hadn't been like that always, but a past where Miranda was always screaming seemed too far gone.  
  
In the present, Jayden's home was near NYC- although soon to be moved- while Miranda's changed often. Determined and flighty, that was the woman she'd become. Not like Jayden, who was so ever-changing and vibrant in her everyday life that it became comforting and expected.  
  
Miranda shook her head slightly and threw her jacket over the nearest chair. "Don't even bother asking, I haven't figured that one out yet." She could've gone further, letting her suspicions of it being a baldness- related idea, one that was going to end in a wig, but the contract she had read stopped that instantly. Mr. McMahon had given her a copy of her contract beforehand, and she'd read every last word. He wasn't going to let another secret of the company's get out, and Miranda decided to tread lightly until she knew what was safe to say and what wasn't.  
  
Jayden shrugged and fell onto the couch- no, Miranda's couch. They had been sharing an apartment for a few months, ever since Miranda had moved to town and started looking for work while Jayden kept her steady job as a teaching substitute. Each of them had their own personal touches throughout the four room space- two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a living room- with Jayden's being the happy memories of home, and Miranda's forest green couch and random appliances. Despite her happy appearance, Jayden had a heart that seemed constantly pulled at and an often forced smile. They had more in common than people thought.  
  
Coming from a classic broken home, Jayden had a persistent desire to create a happy, peaceful living environment- she was lucky to have found a room- mate like Miranda who kept to her own and wouldn't complain unless she had a better way to do things. It was a rare virtue to say the least, especially when Miranda wanted something that wasn't a reminder of home.  
  
"Is he cute?" Jayden said suddenly, now that she had raided the kitchen for a bowlful of popcorn. Falling back into the couch, she looked at Miranda expectantly and munched softly.  
  
Miranda sighed and sat next to her, grabbing the ever-present carrying case and pulling out his file. She should've known that one was coming, Jayden had very willingly watched the last WWE show and was anxious for more. Shuffling through the papers inside, Miranda grabbed the page with Kurt's picture and profile and gave to it Jayden's eager hands.  
  
Green eyes lit up, as did her smile, and Jayden held the picture close to get the best view. "Whew! Damn girl, now I know why you enjoy work so much! I've got a good mind to apply for a job too!" She relaxed but held the picture, and read of her favorite statistics with an unstoppable smirk. "Our Kurt is 6'2-"  
  
"Our Kurt?" Miranda interjected with a raised eyebrow.  
  
Jayden nodded slowly, engrossed. "Oh yeah! Anyway, OUR Kurt is 6'2- oh I love tall men- and weighs 220 pounds- all muscle, by the looks of it- and is... woah, an Olympic gold medalist!" She paused and read over more of his accomplishments- Miranda rolled her eyes, she wasn't that easily impressed- while stopping to read off the more interesting ones. "He's their champ too, well he was... did you read any of this? This guy's almost... surreal."  
  
Grabbing some popcorn, Miranda smiled slightly. "I've glanced at it, but keep in mind that the show's fake. I wouldn't want to base my entire opinion of him on a series of false medals."  
  
"The Olympic medals were real, I don't think Mr. WWE cold control that!" Jayden protested, and this got a real laugh from her friend. One of the few people who could do that, most people were lucky if they could get a smile from Miranda.  
  
"I know, I know." Miranda grabbed the paper with a quick flick of her wrist and had it slid back into the case before Jayden could blink.  
  
Shaking her head at Miranda now, Jayden stared at her empty hands. "I hate it when you do that, it makes me think of when you used to be..." She slowed and caught Miranda's eyes, and then stopped. "Well, it's true! It's damn true!" At this she burst into laughter, while Miranda sat clueless. She slid down almost to the floor, and then looked up at her dark eyed best friend. "You said you read his profile... that's his catch phrase!" She breathed heavily, thought of her new favorite picture, and sighed. "Damn, I envy your little cold and dark self."  
  
~~~~~ 


	3. You Definitely Can't Fake Intelligence

Author's Note: And the story starts rolling! Just so you know, I haven't been paying much attention to the actual events on Smackdown as of late, so I'm making it up. It's funnier this way. One actually familiar face comes in this chapter (finally?) and I'm thinking of sticking in a few other new characters for small roles. Any volunteers? I can't guarantee anything, but if you have something you'd really like to do/say in the story, I'll probably stick it in. Let me know, and enjoy!  
  
~~~~~  
  
Miranda sat backstage on a black folding chair, watching the monitor with a slim amount of interest. The Thursday night Smackdown had just started, and she decided to watch to slowly understand what she was getting into. The whole plotline about baldness especially.  
  
The many hallways were always busy during a show. She had seen countless people, many of whom were wearing various wrestling tights, and had spoken to very few. They looked at her, she assumed some of them might've recognized her- already the word about Kurt Angle's new manager was spreading around. Not that she minded, it did her ego good to see them look at her and seem slightly unnerved by her confidence and position of power.  
  
Kurt's match was up next, Miranda remembered. He was wrestling a younger man named Edge and, if rumours served her right, he was the one involved in the bald match also. A pity though, she knew Jayden would cry out loud if he got his long blond hair shaved. His entrance music started, and she paid little attention as he entered the ring and proceeded to torment and insult Kurt. Building suspense, getting the crowd 'into it', and waiting for his opponent to arrive.  
  
It was the first time Miranda had ever heard Kurt's entrance music, wouldn't be the last, and her mouth almost fell open. The song was terrible, pathetic, and she was glad for the chants of the crowd to drown out the noise. She had always been a rock fan, the newer stuff as well as old favorites, and his music was anything but. There didn't even seem to be a genre for it, other than "I can't believe music can sound so arrogant."  
  
The match was boring, planned, and she had a hard time not to fall asleep. By the time they had started the final beating down of each other, Miranda had slid down in her seat and was leaning forward with half-closed eyes. The chair hurt in that position, but she didn't want to move or watch any more. Her eyes happened to flick up at one moment, when Kurt grabbed a fistful of Edge's hair and threw him backward by it. Edge fell to the floor in pain, and Miranda froze for barely a second, then stumbled out of her chair and walked away.  
  
~~~~~  
  
A door slammed softly, footsteps getting closer, and then a small child's voice.  
  
"Why didn't you pick me up from school?"  
  
Muttering, an excuse that may have been true, and the child screamed.  
  
"Daddy picks me up! I want him to pick me up! Where is my Daddy?!"  
  
More sighs and a frustrated groan as a pack of cigarettes opened, all interrupted by a loud sob.  
  
"I want my Daddy, let me see him! Why can't I see my Daddy?"  
  
"He's gone, you're not going to see him anymore. Just shut up and go to bed."  
  
One quiet sniffle. "I want to live with Daddy, he doesn't make me go to bed when I ask questions! He tells me stuff and I tell him stuff!"  
  
"You aren't going to tell him anything! You're here with me, whether you like it or not!"  
  
"No! I don't want to see you, you're mean and I want my Daddy!"  
  
"Your Daddy's gone, and I'm taking care of you! Now, go to bed!"  
  
~~~~~  
  
"How did things go at your father's?"  
  
A teenage groan of annoyance, something tossed carelessly onto the floor.  
  
"Do I come into your space and make a mess of things? Clean that up!"  
  
Silently rolled eyes, and then a sharp slap.  
  
"Don't your eyes at me."  
  
"I didn't."  
  
A shoulder grabbed and pulled up, the dark-haired child staring her mother down.  
  
"Let go of me. I told you not to touch me." A voice as cold as ice.  
  
One firm shake, and a few words that were interrupted. "You'd better not give me attitude, young lady! Do you think everyone would put up with a brat like you? You should be grateful!"  
  
Instinct took over when calmness snapped, and the girl grabbed her mother's hair and threw her backward. "I told you not to touch me," a voice whispered, dark, shaky, and completely deprived of reason.  
  
This wasn't the first or the last time.  
  
~~~~~  
  
When Miranda opened her eyes, she was leaning against a wall deep inside the arena. Her pulse was sluggish but hard, trying to beat the old memories out of her head, as she brushed her long hair away from her face. She could still hear her own voice, so painful and mean, why wouldn't things like that go away after ten years? Sighing, she started to walk down the hallway. Because things don't change on their own, she thought, because we have to change them... and if we don't, they never leave. Miranda frowned at that.  
  
Keeping it all a secret was working, she told herself. This, a few small reminders, isn't as bad as it could be. Mr. McMahon knew everything, not that she'd said it, because her records had been checked. She never saw his reaction, never cared to see it, and he'd hired her anyway. All because she'd changed. That's what her psychiatrist said, what her mediator said, and what she proved right. She'd never do any of it again, she would try to forget and move on.  
  
Speaking of moving, she walked down the hallway, not noticing her surroundings and a few strange looks she received. Until she ran into one of those looks and fell against the wall. The woman, who must've been spaced out too, stumbled backward a few feet but managed to catch herself, and then caught Miranda's arm.  
  
"Are you okay? I wasn't paying attention, sorry about that."  
  
Miranda looked up and nodded, and the blue eyes she met shone with recognition. The woman was tall, no wonder they'd hit so hard, and was wearing a black t-shirt proudly displaying "I Love Your Boyfriend."  
  
"Hey... aren't you that Miranda everyone's talking about? Angle's new manager?" she said, then raised an eyebrow. "I bet you've kicked his ass already." She grinned then and laughed, and Miranda nodded again. Just shut up and let me get out of here...  
  
Fixing her shirt, Miranda started to walk past her. "Yes I am, and, no, I've not."  
  
Looking after her, the other woman furrowed her brow. "Uh, okay? Nice to finally meet you, I'm Danielle." She smiled again, and Miranda turned and quickly gave her a handshake before leaving. Danielle stood in silence for a moment, and then shook her head. "And Shane says I have problems..."  
  
~~~~~  
  
He ran a towel over his face, cringing when a new sore spot was found. Edge had become a great opponent, and Kurt glanced at his short hair for a moment. He didn't know what he'd look like bald, but it was all for the sake of a good show and his dream. That made the humiliation worth it. Now, he thought with a grin, where's that new manager of mine? He was anxious to see her reaction, would she be surprised at the fighting, or be completely unimpressed?  
  
He didn't have to wait long, when he left the trainer's medic room and started to walk around backstage, he saw her almost immediately. She was sitting by the monitor again, not really paying attention but maybe listening as she wrote in a portfolio. Kurt walked over and she didn't look up, didn't even notice the 6'2 man standing over her, and he couldn't help but bother her.  
  
"Are you anti-social, or do you just think you're better than the rest of us?" Her head jerked up but her eyes were calm and collected, and he grinned. "So, what did you think? Pretty intense, isn't it?" She glanced back down and closed the portfolio, and then looked back up at him.  
  
"Pretty fake," she said with a shrug. "But, if it sells, I suppose it was good."  
  
His smile faded slightly, so she had to be unimpressed, but then he nodded to her. "I'd like to see you try it," he replied, she was too withdrawn and had perfect manners- he couldn't even picture it. Something told him that it could happen, if she felt the need to fight that she could, but he doubted it.  
  
Miranda raised two thin eyebrows and met his eyes, ignoring the blue and focusing on dark pupils. He didn't look away, there was no way he would be intimidated by his own manager, but instead grinned. He knew she was going to make a smart comment in return, who could help it?, and it felt good to draw her out even the tiniest bit. She had a good voice, he noticed, too bad she didn't use it more often.  
  
"I'd like to see you without writers telling you what to do."  
  
Kurt's eyes went wider, only for a second, and then shrugged. "You can't fake intensity, integrity-"  
  
"And you definitely can't fake intelligence," Miranda interrupted, and he could see the corners of her mouth fighting the urge to smile. They twitched for a second, but then she gained control and put that strong facade back into place. It wasn't really her, was his initial thought. He'd felt that when they'd first spoken, how she presented such a responsible image but there seemed to be a lot of mess underneath.  
  
He pulled a chair closer and sat down, shaking his head. There was no way he was going to get into a verbal war, he knew he'd lose, and it would save more of his pride if he just backed away. She seemed too good at that kind of thing, finding a person's weak spot and using it to her advantage. He glanced from the monitor and then back to her, and fought a smile. No wonder Vince hired her, she could put his skills to the test.  
  
"Have you ever watched one of the shows?" he asked, just for idle conversation, and just because he knew that she didn't want to talk anymore. Miranda was just too quiet, he thought, and he wanted to hear what she would say.  
  
She pursed her lips for a second, and Kurt leaned onto his knees. "Two," she replied.  
  
He waited for her to say more, but she didn't, and he looked up when his name was called by someone else. Vince was there, and he waved him over. Kurt stood up and gave her one last confused glance, and then he turned and started to walk away.  
  
She had the need for a little remark, and she swivelled to watch him. "Oh, and Kurt," she called, and he turned and gave her a grin, "I am better than the rest of you."  
  
~~~~~ 


	4. You're In My Way

Author's Note: The song in this chapter is "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osbourne, and that's all I have to say. Enjoy.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"...and there's the autograph signing on Friday, a match against Edge on Sunday Night Heat, and then he's free until Tuesday night. The plane tickets to Smackdown are for a Monday morning flight, and he won't need ticket stubs..."  
  
Miranda nodded as her secretary handed her a stack of notes, reading each one off before piling them on the desk. Yes, HER secretary. Miranda was still adjusting to the thought of having another person taking her messages, helping to keep track of her appointments, and doing little errands that Miranda didn't even know had to be done. It was nice to have those things done for her, but she would've rather taken the extra workload herself- just so she would know how it was done.  
  
She wanted to be involved in every area of work as she could, so she would gain the experience and knowledge to take her to the top. I wonder, she thought, if anyone other than a McMahon could be chairman of this company. If it was possible, she wanted to do it.  
  
Settling into her new job had been surprisingly easy. Once the contract was signed and everything got rolling, she had no problem getting the feel of things and learning how everything was done. When she called to book Kurt's appearances or hotel rooms, she knew now to immediately mention who she was... and who she worked for. It was a nice perk, having the hotel receptionist immediately bend over backwards when she said those three little letters: w, w, and e. This managing position was turning out to be a fun ride.  
  
Even the people weren't hard to get along with, although most of them found her too quiet and slightly unnerving. That reaction was normal, friends and family had been saying that about her since she was a child. A child who wore black, spoke softly, and thought of everything in a different way than the rest of the world. Her mother used to call her a "black spot in the sun of the world." Miranda never liked her mother anyway, so comments like that weren't uncommon and they couldn't bother her icy exterior. Not anymore.  
  
Crazy, but that's how it goes Millions of people living as fools Maybe it's not too late To learn how to love And forget how to hate Mental wounds not healing Life's a bitter shame I'm going off the rails on a crazy train  
  
A sharp pain raced through her head, and Miranda let her head fall forward onto the desk. Her secretary was long gone and no one saw her, and Miranda slowly groaned as she regulated her breathing. "Damn it," she whispered roughly as another dagger crossed her temple. It had been a long time since thinking about old times had given her a headache this bad.  
  
I've listened to preachers I've listened to fools I've watched all the dropouts Who make their own rules  
  
Just remember what Dr. Kennet said, she thought. You've changed. Things aren't like that anymore, she's gone and so are you. No more hurting, and no one ever left. Just remember it, just keep remembering. It wasn't your fault, any child would've reacted the same way. It was your only defense, Dr. Kennet said that thousands of times. They fixed it, those two years with nothing to think about but your actions fixed it.  
  
One person conditioned to rule and control The media sells it and you live the role Mental wounds still screaming Driving me insane I'm going off the rails on a crazy train  
  
Her breathing slowed but she could feel the beads of sweat on her forehead, and she shoved her chair from the desk. Some Tylenol will fix it, or maybe just a glass of cold water. Yeah, she told herself, just get up and get something to fix this. It should stop in a minute or two anyway...  
  
I know that things are going wrong for me You gotta listen to my words Yeh-h Heirs of a cold war That's what we've become Inheriting troubles I'm mentally numb  
  
"Miranda? Are you okay?" She didn't have to look up to recognize Kurt's voice, and he was standing beside her before she could tell him to leave. Company was the last thing she needed. But, he knelt down by her chair and rubbed her back, asking questions and watching her with concerned blue jade eyes. "Are you an asthmatic? Do you have allergies, or a Medic Alert bracelet?" He grabbed her hand, when did her skin get so cold and clammy?, and checked for anything that might help, but nothing was there.  
  
Crazy, I just cannot bear I'm living with something that just isn't fair Mental wounds not healing Who and what's to blame I'm going off the rails on a crazy train  
  
She turned away from him and put her head between her knees, and fought the trembling in her hands. "I'm fine," she said roughly. "It's... just a headache."  
  
Kurt didn't believe it, she never thought he would- he actually appeared to be more perceptive than that. Instead he put his hand over her forehead and turned her face back toward him. "Sure, and headaches always make people have trouble breathing like that," he replied, and then sighed. "Has this happened before?"  
  
She swallowed thickly, did he have to be so nosey? "A... couple of times. It's nothing, it's going to go away soon." Yeah, right. Just like the idea that if you close your eyes, everything that you can't see, can't see you. And the idea that saying someone has changed really means it. She kept her eyes closed and felt her heart beat, her chest rise, and the gentle rubbing back and forth on her shoulder.  
  
Without saying a word, he stayed close to her and watched to make sure she didn't pass out or hurt herself, and he breathed heavily in relief when she finally stopped shaking. She sat up and took a deep breath, and then finally brought her eyes to look at him. She didn't want to know what he was thinking.  
  
"I was just coming to see if the airport had my tickets... I'm glad I didn't just call you," he said after a pause, giving her a slight smile. She fell back into her seat, and he stood up to look down at her. She looked nervous, tense, and not the least bit intimidating. All he wanted to do was comfort her and find out what was wrong... why didn't that sound like a bad thing? "So," he continued. "Care to tell me what just happened?"  
  
Miranda shrugged, acting casual despite her exterior which was anything but. "A headache." She paused and then grabbed one of her secretary's notes, changing the subject quickly. "You've got tickets for Monday morning, the airport has it on their records so you don't need the actual papers-"  
  
She was cut off by Kurt grabbing her chair and pulling it around, lowering his chin and raising hers so they were face to face. Her eyes widened before she could stop it, and he locked his eyes with hers. "I don't care about the plane ticket," he said softly, and she was reminded of why he was a professional wrestler. The way he stood over her- making her heart race, how he looked like a competitor, and that serious glint in his eyes... she couldn't help but be nervous.  
  
"It was nothing that I can't handle," she replied finally, pulling the rest of her unbreakable exterior together before trying to stand up. He didn't move, and she lowered her eyebrows. "You're in my way," she told him, and Kurt had to grin silently as he stood his ground. "I'd like to stand up now, I'm feeling fine."  
  
He listened to her voice, she was speaking more than he'd ever heard her, but still didn't move. "I'm glad you're okay, but maybe I should take you to a hospital." She froze, he didn't know why, and Kurt stood up. "Will you just tell me what that was? It's a lot easier than arguing with you."  
  
She didn't want to, but she'd be damned if he took her to the hospital. Dr. Kennet would find out what happened, and WHY, and he'd rethink his evaluation. His evaluation of her and how she'd changed and how she could control her reactions. Miranda didn't need that, not when she had been making a lot of progress in her life. So, she had no other choice. "I don't know," she said bravely, not looking away for a second. "Probably a panic attack or something like it."  
  
His eyes darkened, confused, and she stood up. Maybe she shouldn't have, because it showed the reality of his 6'2 height against her 5'6. He pursed his lips and examined her too-serious tone. "Why a panic attack?" he asked.  
  
Her dark eyes, now he could see they were a rich brown, glanced away. That definitely took her calmness down a notch. "Are you going to make me go to the hospital?" she said after a sigh. He shook his head, and she was visibly relieved. "Well, it's not your business. I'm fine now, you can feel proud of yourself, and don't forget your flight on Monday."  
  
Looking at her in disbelief, his eyebrows raised as she walked past him and left. "What the hell was that?" he mumbled, before shaking his head. She was a character, to say the least, and he wanted to know why.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Miranda sat on the small balcony, jutting from the back of her and Jayden's apartment, and her mind was still spinning. She couldn't count the number of times she'd rethought every word she said to Kurt, everything she'd told him, and whether he understood what she meant or not. The last thing she wanted was for him to go poking around in her business, but she had a feeling that if he didn't- Mr. McMahon would tell him what he wanted to know.  
  
In her opinion, too many people knew about her life already. Herself, of course, Jayden, her... mother, and a few various doctors and the like. Her father never knew, she had a desire to know him and live with him but wouldn't let him know her the same way. She had wanted a closeness from him and a father figure, but she prevented them from having anything together. She sighed and took another drink from her glass.  
  
Jayden wasn't home, and Miranda was glad for that. She knew her friend would want to know what bothered her, and why, and Miranda wouldn't open up and tell her. It was just her way of dealing with her problems, hold them inside until she burst. Jayden knew that, but she would still be hurt by the "lack of trust" between them, even though it was only Miranda's way of keeping her privacy. If she was going to tell anyone it would be her closest friend, but she didn't tell much.  
  
The phone rang, and Miranda reluctantly got up. Her "day in the office" had ended, but she had a feeling this was related to it. She was right... in a way.  
  
"Hello, Miranda Irving speaking," she said automatically, it was a way of answering that she had adopted- ever since one of Jayden's boyfriends had called and launched into a fury of pleas without asking if it really was Jayden on the line. She heard a slight laugh in response, and her eyes narrowed. "Who is this?"  
  
"You answer the phone like you're in an office," he replied. "It's Kurt. Don't hang up."  
  
Miranda sighed and slid into the nearest chair. Of all the people she didn't want to hear from, it had to be him. "I'll just let the phone hang in the sink, if that's alright with you." He didn't laugh, she was serious, and she twirled the phone cord between two ringless fingers. "What can I help you with, Kurt?"  
  
"I'm not going to bother you about this afternoon- if that's what you're thinking." She rolled her eyes- yeah, right. "I thought I'd let you know that I'll be missing the match on Sunday. My cousin's getting married, and I'm the best man."  
  
Her mind shifted to all-work, and she choked for a second. "You can't miss Sunday Night Heat! It's only three days away, how are they supposed to schedule the change now?" She put one hand to her forehead and pushed hair from her face and glasses, this was perfect. Just perfect. She'd been in this job for a little over a month, and already he was planning on missing a big match. And the blame, of course, would fall on her. She groaned inwardly. What a damn perfect day.  
  
"They moved the date of the wedding, and I can't miss it. We're really close, I'm not going to miss Scott's wedding- I think they'll understand that."  
  
No, they won't, she wanted to say. This is a business, and if it's anything like other businesses- they only care about getting what they want. "Have you spoken to Mr. McMahon about this?" she said instead, curling her feet up underneath her with ease. She doubted he'd even thought about calling the boss.  
  
"Well, no. That's usually what a manager is for, Miranda."  
  
She raised her eyebrows, even though he couldn't see them, and shook her head. I must've missed the part of the contract that said I had to be your messenger, here I was thinking that I just made appointments and kept track of your schedule and matches. Wait a second, she thought, I'm in control of his matches... damn I hope he isn't right. "You can't miss that match," she said after a pause. "It's only a wedding, after all."  
  
"Okay, so you're not much on weddings, neither am I, but I'm still going. Why wouldn't they understand that he wants my support?"  
  
"You're not giving me much choice," Miranda replied. "If he wants your support... just call him from the show." She heard his groan of frustration, and she shook her head. "And that's final, Kurt. You're not missing the show." He didn't say much after that, and Miranda hoped she wasn't as wrong about his whereabouts as she thought. Kurt seemed too determined to go, and she wouldn't be completely surprised if he skipped the show.  
  
~~~~~ 


	5. What About My Car?

Author's Note: Lil' bit of language, yes, Miranda's pretty pissed off in this chapter. Finally! Who wants to see Kurt get his butt kicked? *raises hand excitedly* The song (yes, another one) in this chapter is "Cathartik" by The Tea Party. If you have their Interzone Mantras cd, definitely listen to it because it really helps the mood. Later, Eleven Roses.  
  
~~~~~  
  
She was going to kill him. Strangle that huge neck. Break that ankle. Damn how Miranda wished she could. But, no, that's what all those "sessions" were for, to get rid of urges like these. Apparently they didn't work, she thought angrily, apparently this anger is still alive and kicking. She was walking backstage at Sunday Night Heat, five minutes before Kurt's match, and he was nowhere to be seen.  
  
To everyone she walked past, she looked as in control as always, still burning with that determination, but anyone who looked closer would've seen her eyes freezing over. If she got one hand on that steroid induced, nosey Olympian... he'd have no trouble finding those gold medals of his. And that wedding he was probably at right then would very soon be changed to a funeral. Miranda was livid, and after waiting for a few more minutes, she grabbed the nearest phone.  
  
She stalked back and forth as she dialed, and waited with a tapping foot while it rang. He picked up, and she wanted to scream in his ear. Management, she reminded herself, that god damn stress-reducing breathing. She inhaled and exhaled softly, and then glared at the phone. "Kurt, where are you?" No reply, and she almost growled into the phone. "Where the hell are you?"  
  
She heard him sigh. "I'm not at the wedding."  
  
"But you're not here," she shot back, letting a little-seen anger show though. "I don't know if you think this is funny, but if you don't show up within the next three minutes- you're going to miss your match. And, don't act like you're not at that wedding and that you didn't just sneak off with your cellphone." He laughed at that, and it only served to make her angrier. I swear to God, she told herself, if he doesn't stop it my hair is going to catch fire.  
  
"I never thought you'd say that much- especially when you're angry. I'm surprised at you, Miranda."  
  
Slowly balling up one fist, she locked her eyes on the wall. Bite your tongue, just imagine telling him to fuck off instead of actually doing it. "Kurt, you're supposed to be here- not at a wedding- so you either get here now or don't bother coming in for the next few weeks." There, she thought smugly. That'll show him who's in control and who shouldn't be giving attitude.  
  
"I'm not at the wedding, I'm stuck in traffic on the way to the arena," he replied calmly. "Just tell Vince to push the match back a few slots, and I should be there in time."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "And you think he'll change the entire schedule just for you?" She didn't want to say it- but Mr. McMahon probably would. Kurt Angle was one of his "golden boys" and one of the best heels in the business, and Mr. McMahon wouldn't want to waste him.  
  
"I think it's worth it to see which of us is right," he teased. "I should be there in about ten or fifteen minutes, traffic's starting to let up."  
  
"You'd better be," she said quickly, and he laughed. "I wouldn't push me, Kurt, okay? You're late enough already, I don't need any more reasons to be pissed off at you." He kept laughing, and she frowned. Arrogant, soon to be bald, men are all the same.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Miranda was sitting by the backstage televisions again- they seemed to be the place where everyone congregated, where she didn't want to be, but she did want to see the show. Kurt still hadn't shown up, and it was ten minutes later. Just wait until he gets here, she thought, I'll show him what he ISN'T made of...  
  
Mr. McMahon walked up by her, obviously impatient, and he coughed when she didn't immediately acknowledge him. She looked up with equally angry eyes, stopping any attitude or power trip he might have had started, and he glanced around.  
  
"Kurt's not here yet," he said. "I can't put the match off anymore, he needs to be here within five minutes." She waited for him to continue, say what his master plan was, and he focused his eyes on her again. "Do you have a car here tonight?" Miranda hesitated, and then nodded. He grinned. "Good, you're going to go out and get him. Let him park his car on the side of the road if he's stuck, you can take your's."  
  
She had no time to object, to say she'd rather have him miss the show, because Mr. McMahon turned and left. Sitting in shock for a moment, Miranda narrowed her eyes as she grabbed her purse. Oh, just wait until I get a hold of him...  
  
~~~~~  
  
Kurt sat in traffic, head leaning against the window as he watched every car NOT moving. This was not good, the movement of the cars had slowed and then finally stopped, and he was becoming even later. He didn't know how late Vince would hold the show just for one match, he's probably fuming over this right now. Shaking his head, Kurt reached over and turned up the radio. He didn't know the song, but it occupied his mind, and that was all he really wanted.  
  
Try to change  
  
I never wanted to be a simple man I'd rather live all my days as a lion Than a thousand as a lamb I only wanted to see What would happen to me If I followed the road That leads to the palace we all seek  
  
What exactly is Vince was going to do to me when I get to the arena?, he thought. He doesn't have rights to do a lot, it's not like I planned to miss this- even though Miranda is probably sitting there right now thinking I did. I've given him years of my work, my sweat, and my loyalty. There's nothing he can do.  
  
Speaking of Miranda, he thought with a reluctant grin, she is going to kill me. He just had to make those few comments on the phone, served her right for assuming he would neglect his job. Kurt did want to see what she would say, and just how much she would say. She had spoken more than ever before when she was angry at him, and he could tell there were so many other things she had wanted to say. That composure of hers held them back, he knew. Just once he'd like to see her without that calm, controlling shield.  
  
He happened to glance up, and his eyes widened. It couldn't be. There, ahead on the road and off to the side in a blue Plymouth Breeze, far out of the way of traffic. He couldn't believe it, and the car door opened. Miranda. His mouth fell open, and he didn't move. She hunted me down? He swallowed once thickly, watching her look around for his car. She had no clue what he drove, and he decided quickly: was it safe for her to actually see him?  
  
Did you come here lamenting what you missed Overcome and seduced by this The beautiful abyss What did you come here to see What are you trying to be You're like a shadow that swallows life Now you're crawling over me  
  
She looked so... out of place as she walked among the many cars. Too well dressed to be on a normal drive, in all black again, and with that long hair whipping behind her. Damn she walked fast. Kurt swallowed thickly, and he opened the door. She didn't notice, and he kept watching her. What was she doing?  
  
"Miranda," he called, not loudly but enough for her to hear. She turned quickly and met his eyes, and started walking silently. "Did you come to throw traffic out of my way?" he dared to tease, even without the safety of a phone connection he wasn't afraid of her. Not really, not yet. But she kept walking, and if she didn't soften that dark gaze and those killer steps... he might start to get worried.  
  
The time's come again It's nearing the end But I feel no shame Do you feel the same Because I know I'll be alright If I make it through tonight Well I swear I'll try to change Once again  
  
Try to change  
  
She got to his door, and he grinned and took a look around. Never let them see you sweat, he thought with a hidden laugh, especially if "they" have black heels. "Isn't this a beautiful wedding? Too bad I'm missing the show for this." Apparently she didn't find him funny, because she didn't smile. Actually, he thought, he'd never seen her smile. Had anyone? It made her seem more like the image she presented, smiling too often might make her look cheerful, he thought. Maybe even beautiful, in a more pleasant way than usual.  
  
Innocence is a face that always lies Innocence is a wish for someone But it's something I can't buy What are you trying to prove So many mountains to move All your demons are heaven sent My lost cathartik friend  
  
Try to change  
  
Miranda looked in at him, and he turned the car off and pocketed the keys. "Hello? Did you come here for any reason, or were you out driving too?" He stood up and shut the car door, feeling more powerful now that he stood over her. "How's the show going, anyway?"  
  
She sighed and looked at him, like she was deciding on something, and then shook her head. "Come on, you're already late." And she started walking back to her car. He only hesitated for a second, and then reached out and grabbed her shoulder. She whirled around quickly and stepped away, her wariness at that touch bothered him.  
  
"What about my car?" he asked, turning to look at the rental. Not that he wouldn't mind leaving it, but it would probably block traffic even more and the rental service wouldn't be pleased.  
  
"Pull it off the road and hurry up," she replied quickly.  
  
Kurt managed to get it somewhat out of the road, and then he grabbed his gym bag and keys. She started back to her car without saying anything, and he followed, watching her curiously. "I take it you couldn't wait anymore," he said. She barely shrugged in response, and he took two long steps to get in front of her quickly. He stopped and she moved to go around him, but Kurt blocked her. "I'm not letting you go until you say something."  
  
She looked up and met his eyes, if only looks could kill, and pursed her lips. "Mr. McMahon sent me to get you, and we have five minutes. Can we start walking now?"  
  
She went around him anyway, without an answer, and he raised his eyebrows. Always the blunt one, aren't you, Miranda? "Are you going to push me into traffic?" he replied, grinning as he fell into step beside her. She kept going and contemplated her answer, tucking her hands into her jacket pocket.  
  
"If it was moving, possibly."  
  
He shook his head as she opened the driver's side of her car, and he couldn't help it. He pulled the keys from her hand expertly and slid into the seat, leaving her standing with her arm outstretched. Kurt grinned and kissed the top of her hand, before starting the car. "Thanks for letting me drive."  
  
Miranda didn't reply, he could see that she was out of patience already, and went around the car. She sat next to him and fastened her seatbelt quickly. Finally turning to look at him, wearing that confident grin, she narrowed her eyes and leaned in closer. So close that their eyes were inches apart, if hers were as on fire as they looked- he would be burning. He couldn't help but inspect her face and the now-visible brown of her eyes when she was that close, but she didn't seem to notice.  
  
"Just remember, Kurt," she said softly. "Payback may be a bitch, but I am the bitch."  
  
~~~~~ 


	6. That Won't Happen, Will It?

Author's Note: *stands silently* I can't think of anything to say or ramble about. Huh. *sighs and walks away* *runs back* Oh, yes I can! When Miranda thinks Mr. McMahon has a "time-distance problem" it means that he doesn't have a clue how long it takes to drive anywhere. So there.  
  
~~~~~  
  
He was driving her to insanity. Slowly but surely, and in more ways than one. Kurt grinned as he drove, purposely doing small things that he knew would annoy her. Which he did plenty of on the short trip back to the arena. Passing every car he could, changing the radio station every minute, and then trying not to laugh when she gave him death stares. Miranda couldn't stand it, and she'd had enough long before they got halfway to their destination. The trip, apparently Mr. McMahon had a time-distance problem, took about ten minutes one way.  
  
Kurt was at the radio again, only this time he couldn't find a volume that suited him. First it was so soft that he couldn't hear it- that was fine with her- and then he turned it up so loud that the windows trembled. Miranda ignored it and closed her eyes and he passed another car, and then turned in her seat to face him. "Just leave the radio alone," she said, turning it off. He shrugged.  
  
"Well, if you want to talk to me that much, I could." She shook her head, that was exactly what she wanted... "Don't you like my driving?"  
  
Miranda straightened in her seat and checked the seatbelt. No, I'd rather be driving... and then throwing you out the door. She ignored his question instead, why skirt around the problem when she could tackle it head on? "I wonder if the show is over yet," she mused as she checked the dashboard. "I think this clock's a little slow." It said there was fifteen minutes left in the show, she guessed it was more like five. They were going to miss it completely- she'd never let him forget it.  
  
He nodded once, maybe she'd finally gotten to him the way he got to her, and then turned the radio on again to even the odds. "They'll wait for us," he replied. She huffed in response, and he looked at her quickly. "No answer? You actually talk some when you're mad."  
  
"When I'm ANGRY," she corrected. "And I usually don't talk this much." It's just that you make me frustrated, she thought, and that gets my mouth running. I get too stupid to think before I speak, and that leaves too many openings for more of your comments.  
  
Raising his eyebrows thoughtfully, Kurt glanced at her in the mirror again. "This much? I feel honoured." She didn't reply, and he changed the radio station to provoke her. "Why don't you talk much? Did you have a stutter or something when you were a kid?"  
  
That might've been worth a laugh, if Miranda had been the laughing type. "No, I just don't speak up until I have something to say."  
  
"Or until you're angry at someone," Kurt added. At me, they both knew what he meant. "You seem to have a lot that you could say, but you still don't." Another passed car fell behind them, and she looked at the clock again.  
  
"Are you saying I'm opinionated?" she asked, not as sharply as she could have. He smiled wide, showing his teeth, and nodded. "Good, because I am. I just don't waste my opinions." She looked over at him matter-of-factly, purposely provoking him in return.  
  
Not to be outdone, Kurt turned on one hip and gave her a quick glance up and down before replying. "Are you saying I waste mine?" Before she could say 'yes,' he laughed. "Don't answer that." She didn't, and she also gave no comment on his straying eyes. Miranda didn't need to.  
  
~~~~~  
  
They arrived unceremoniously, with Mr. McMahon hardly saying a word. He just pointed to the curtain, where Edge stood waiting, and Kurt hurried off to get changed. They hadn't spoken much after they got to the arena, Miranda was silently waiting for what kind of backlash they'd receive for being so late- even though she was only half responsible. She turned to go backstage, deeper into the halls of the arena, when Mr. McMahon stopped her.  
  
"We need to have a chat, Miranda." Simple words, and she met his eyes. This was not the best mood for her to be in, especially if he planned to give her a lecture. She was so close to going back, damn Kurt for irritating her so much.  
  
She nodded briskly and followed him to his office, finding her calm image again and using it. Something wasn't right, she felt like she was in store for more than his complaining. She ignored it and sat down.  
  
He spoke first, sitting across from her on a chair and pulling out a folder she didn't recognize. "First of all, I'm disappointed in both you and Kurt for his lateness. You are responsible for him knowing the time to be here, and leaving time in case anything like that happens. Next week, regardless of any traffic problems, he had better be on time." She merely nodded, and he opened the folder.  
  
"I doubt you recognize this, Miranda, but you should be familiar with the content." His eyes lowered to meet hers, and Miranda raised one eyebrow. This didn't sound good. Mr. McMahon sighed. "This is your social and criminal record."  
  
Miranda lowered her eyebrows then, well, that was a surprise. She didn't need to worry about what was in it, he'd already said he knew about everything and hired her anyway. Why was he bringing it up again, though? She glanced down at it, the shield around her slipping to show the tiniest hint of worry, and then met his eyes again. "Yes, it is." Don't say anymore than you have to, it should've been her motto.  
  
He nodded slightly, trying to find the words, and the opened it to look at it himself. "I was informed of most of your... life situations, but when I actually looked at this myself, I'm quite surprised." He met her eyes again, searching for what the folder said she'd been like, and couldn't find a trace. Couldn't see anything beyond the dark eyes and control. "You don't seem like the same child they describe in here, the one who had a social worker and spent time in juvenile hall."  
  
"That's why I went there, Mr. McMahon," she replied softly. "Apparently it worked as well as they hoped." He swallowed quickly, that shut him up for sure.  
  
"Well, yes," he said finally. "I wasn't aware of your reasons for being in anyone other than your parents care, I didn't really think it would matter, but I'll admit it bothers me. They say you've changed, and I believe that- it's obvious just by looking at you, and I want to make sure that nothing of... the old Miranda will come out." He gave her a stern gaze then, like he could intimidate her, and continued. "That won't happen, will it, Miranda?"  
  
Shaking her head slightly, she was reminded of how angry she'd been earlier... and how eager she was for any type of release. "No, it won't," she answered calmly. She hoped she wasn't lying. He nodded then, relieved, and stood up- a sign for her to leave.  
  
"Good, I'll let you go now. Let Kurt know that his lateness was not appreciated- he's probably finished his match, and make sure you remember what you said."  
  
Miranda nodded finally, stood up, and went toward the door. She didn't heard a soft scrambling of feet, if she had heard that noise- she would've known Kurt was done his match for the evening. He had even come to talk to Vince, but instead had gotten an earful. Interesting stuff, too.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Falling into the hotel bed, Miranda sighed. That was a day she'd gladly not live again. She made a pact to herself to never get in a car with Kurt Angle again, and not to let her temper twist her insides like it had done all day. Why did he do that to her, how could he do that? That layer of ice surrounding her had been built since she was seventeen- over seven years now- and had worked perfectly. Nothing could disturb her, no one could get her angry, and now he did. Again and again, Kurt could run cracks over her shield like walking on eggshells.  
  
She had to stop it, she realized, never let him get under my skin again. But, how? She pursed her lips and reluctantly sat up, giving in to the hunger in her stomach. Maybe something to eat would help her think.  
  
This can become a bad situation, Miranda realized on her walk to the hotel restaurant. He would get her angry, and- if she did nothing to end it- she could do something she'd regret. Either she'd break down completely inside, or her outside would shatter and she'd turn into that rebellious brat again. Only now she was stronger, older, and much more capable. Not a good thought at all.  
  
After getting a small meal, Miranda sat by the window and watched the cars drive by. It was getting late, probably around 10pm, and there were only a few other people down there. People who gladly left her alone while they went on with their chatting, drinking, and wasting time. She looked idle, like someone who finally got to relax at that hour, but inside her head was churning. She had to figure this problem out, and to do that- she needed to figure out Kurt Angle.  
  
She wasn't looking forward to it, maybe she could get a copy of his criminal record- did he even have one?- or some family history. She'd even take gossip if she could get it. Anything except for having to talk to him, trying to inconspicuously drag information of out him as she understood his personality. That would work best, the fastest, and the most reliable, but she was reluctant. This was Kurt she was thinking about, that arrogant wrestler who loved to get under her skin. How would she stand his company?  
  
Talking to him after speaking with Mr. McMahon had been awkward enough- even he had seemed out of place after being so late. He kept looking at her like he was confused, so eventually she gave up on him- had talked too much already- and simply said he shouldn't be late again. He should plan for traffic, and then she left. They hadn't seen each other since them, and she was glad for the few hours of peace.  
  
Someone sat next to her, and she looked up quickly. Not him, please don't be him. I'm not completely sane yet. Meeting familiar green eyes, Miranda gave a rare smile. "Jayden? What are you doing here?"  
  
Smiling, the newly-dyed redhead stole a drink of pop. "Thought I'd check out the action in your business life," she teased. Looking around the room, she laughed. "What a fun place this is! And, to think I wasn't sure if I should drive down here!"  
  
"You've missed all the action," Miranda replied. "But, you dyed your hair. It's nice." She wasn't lying, she just never seemed enthusiastic. The red highlighted Jayden's features and was sure to get her all the attention she craved. The compliment got Jayden going, trying not to be pleased, and soon she settled into the usual pattern of talking. She talked, Miranda gave a few words- all she really wanted to say, and it gave Miranda a nice release from her earlier thoughts.  
  
Not for long. Jayden was talking about her new apartment, asking Miranda to come up and help her settle and decorate, but she suddenly stopped. Pointing across the room, Jayden grinned devilishly. "Oh, who's he? Isn't that... what's his name?"  
  
Miranda turned, expecting the worse, but instead saw Triple H talking to the redhead Miranda had met that one day. She relaxed immediately, why did Kurt have to jump into her mind first? "That's Paul- Triple H- and Danielle. She's The Wildcat."  
  
Jayden laughed. "Wildcat, huh? I bet Paul's pretty glad for that!" Her voice got louder, and she hushed it suddenly. "Is she a wrestler too?"  
  
"Yes, but they're not together. He's with Mr. McMahon's daughter, and she's with his son." Jayden's eyes shot up, and Miranda shook her head. "No, not Paul's son. Mr. McMahon's son Shane." Nodding, Jayden looked around some more and then motioned with her head. Miranda followed her eyes, Jayden just loved the brunettes. "That's Rob Van Dam- he's married. You're not going to have much luck, Jay, most of these guys are already taken."  
  
Pouting, Jayden slouched and gave her a dirty look. "Fine, ruin my night. I was just looking!" She faked her anger for a minute, but then perked up when Miranda didn't fall for it. Stealing another drink, she looked around and froze when she saw someone behind Miranda. A slow grin spread across her face. "Oh, now there's a nice one!"  
  
Miranda rolled her eyes and didn't turn, so Jayden hit her shoulder. Sighing slightly, she turned and saw that familiar grin from across the room. "That's Kurt Angle," she said softly. Jayden smiled broadly and waved to him, and Miranda narrowed her eyes. "Don't, I was... just getting ready to leave."  
  
"No, you weren't," Jayden replied shortly, and then motioned to Kurt with a beckoning finger. "Hey, aren't you that Kurt Angle guy?" Miranda rolled her eyes, how original, could he ever resist a pick-up line like that? She watched her friend continue to call him, but- by the look on Jayden's face- he didn't come. Frowning, Jayden lay her arms across the table. "He ignored me, I bet he didn't recognize you. I guess the back of your head looks different."  
  
Or else he didn't want to see me, just like I don't want to see him, Miranda added to herself. Thank God.  
  
~~~~~ 


	7. You're Just Getting My Hopes Up

Author's Note: Why is it that when I write a story about a wrestler, they start to really grow on me? I'm watching Smackdown and I wait for Angle to come out... *sighs* Oh, where's RVD when I need him to stare at? And now, after that pointless little thing, more story. Enjoy.  
  
~~~~~  
  
He couldn't believe what he'd heard. Doubting it at first, listening through a door might've changed the words a little... or a lot, Kurt now could see the truth. Those glimpses of Miranda, of a different her, that was who she used to be. He wasn't entirely sure of who that woman used to be, but he could tell it was something bad. She had a criminal record, spent time in juvenile hall, and had to get a social worker? It didn't fit the well-presented manager he had grown used to.  
  
What it did fit, though, was the fact that she seemed to hide something. Secrets, hadn't he once thought she'd be good at keeping them? Kurt shook his head. I guess I was right. Miranda seems too controlled, she's hiding it all. He wanted to know why, seeing her after his eavesdropping had been hard- he just wanted to ask her bluntly what she'd done. It was the kind of thing she'd do, or at least his manager would do. What the Miranda inside would do, what she was really even like, he had no clue. Would she get mad... angry, if I asked?, he thought. He'd been thinking about it for hours.  
  
Back in his own hotel room, or suite- Vince treated his stars good, Kurt tried to think about anything but her. It didn't work. He exercised and then wondered if she was a violent person, he watched television and tried to see bits of her in the characters. He'd even taken a shower and wondered, well, less unpleasant things, but it was still about her. Damn, he thought. That black heart is addictive.  
  
Miranda hadn't been around the hotel, he had walked around talking to other superstars well into the night and saw no sight of her. Kurt had seen everyone else he knew, except the one he wanted to see. He'd even seen a fan, some flirtatious redhead who tried to wave him over- but he barely noticed.  
  
Rubbing one hand over his forehead, pausing to note the hair that would soon be gone, Kurt got up from the couch and went into the bedroom. Maybe getting some sleep would help his sober mood. It sure couldn't hurt.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Finally getting back to her room, after spending two hours talking to Jayden- who had driven to her own motel at the earliest hours of the morning- Miranda fell into sleep without changing. She wanted rest, peace, and some time to think about what she was going to do. She knew she was exaggerating some, but part of it would always be true. Kurt could annoy her with no effort on his part, and she had to stop her fiery reaction. It would cost her this job if she didn't.  
  
Miranda slept, and she dreamed. It was worse than during the daytime, at night there was no one to stop it or a way to control it.  
  
i"You're late, Miranda Irving."  
  
Cold eyes met a purposely irritating tone. "Does that make you feel superior, Valerie?"  
  
"I thought Dr. Kennet warned you about that attitude," a cool voice replied, before her child found her own composure.  
  
"You didn't answer my question," the almost-twenty woman said sharply. "And my sessions are SUPPOSED to be private."  
  
A sly grin from the single parent. "I'm your mother, dear. We have a bond."  
  
Miranda narrowed her eyes, finally pulling her wits around her. "Like the bond Dad and you share?" she said, sickeningly sweet and with a matching grin.  
  
Now, the smile was forced and bitter. "I wouldn't go messing in things you don't understand!" she shot back. "Besides," she said after calming down, "he only left after you were born."  
  
"That's only because you're irresponsible!" Still childlike, pointing fingers between the two of them.  
  
"And he's any better? He left, and I do wish you'd take after him," her mother answered, too sick of anger that went unanswered. She wouldn't back down from this kid, especially not her own. It was the only way to teach her.  
  
Miranda left without words, slamming the door and resisting the violent urge that pulled at every fibre of her body. Go back, hit her. Show her what pain really is./i  
  
Her breath came in short gasps, and Miranda jolted straight up in her bed. It was too real, she could still feel the rage burning in her towards the woman she hadn't seen in six years. The mother she didn't want to know, and the father who she hadn't talked to since she was five. Falling back and rolling her head into cool sheets, Miranda closed her eyes. This wasn't supposed to happen, it was all over. That's what everyone said, but why was she still affected?  
  
She didn't want to see her mother again, ever, and had done a thousand times better without her. She was healthy, had no bruises from self- inflicted wounds, and no guilt from past mistakes. The doctors had helped her understand why she was so angry, and then they got rid of what caused it. They taught her how to control it, how to ignore the things that made her lose control. It had worked until now, until she was 25.  
  
Her life had changed so suddenly, she knew that, and it had to be the cause. She could even name it without uncertainty. Kurt, her new hell's name was Kurt. He brought everything back out in her, and she was starting to realize why. Because he didn't know what he was doing. He wanted to get to know her, and he tried to make friends with her. She never knew a sense of humour, someone who teased her out of his own good personality, could hurt so much. And she hated it, she wanted all the pain to go away. Didn't everyone deserve their free time eventually?  
  
Nothing would go away on its own, she knew that from too many experiences, so she would have to do something about it on her own. Miranda wasn't sure what though, but it would come to her eventually. There were some possibilities she'd thought of before, but none of them were good enough. Quitting her job was unthinkable, as was ignoring Kurt for the rest of her time as his manager.  
  
That left only one option she could think of, get to know him, find his weak spots, and learn to stop being affected. It was just like treating a phobia, slowly expose yourself to it- until you aren't afraid anymore. It definitely wasn't her preferred solution, but it was the best she could think of right then. She just needed some good sleep to clear her mind, and then she could think of something better.  
  
~~~~~  
  
He felt better, not a lot but enough to smile. Rest did his mind and body good, even if the passing time only heightened his curiosity. Kurt still wanted to corner Miranda- yeah, I bet she'd love that, I'd probably end up dead- and ask her about what he'd heard. He was smarter than that, so he just decided to ask a few casual questions if the topic came up. It hadn't before, but that could be easily changed.  
  
Smiling as he passed Stephanie McMahon- why she was backstage, he had no clue- he was surprised when she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the lobby. He followed her, what was she up to?, and she walked quickly and seriously.  
  
"I need to talk to you," she said, after getting them out of the way of walking people. "Listen, I heard some stuff about your new manager. Apparently, this Miranda isn't as perfect as she seems."  
  
Shaking his head, Kurt looked around for the very person they were talking about. "I know already, but I didn't think she was that perfect to begin with. No one is," he replied. Stephanie nodded in agreement, shaking her bouncing hair.  
  
"I wouldn't want to piss her off! I'm going to stay out of her way, I'm glad you know- just for your own safety."  
  
"I don't think she'd go off and attack anyone, Steph." Or maybe she would, but rumours like that weren't good to go around. Especially if Miranda heard them, then they could easily be proven true. Not agreeing, Stephanie left without another word. Probably to flutter around and look busy, he thought dryly. What a person to be potential owner of WWE in the future.  
  
Kurt walked out behind the hotel, where the parking lot was, and found his car. He had a flight to get on in an hour or so. Plenty of time to waste, he thought dryly.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Miranda sighed and heaved her suitcase up over her shoulder. One day she'd have to take a course from Jayden on traveling light. It just wasn't worth having all her luxuries to carry three bags- which seemed to prefer the floor to her hold. She had a pattern going: walk a little, drop a bag, stop and get it, and keep walking. Annoying indeed. And manners, they were long dead in this huge airport. No one even noticed her bent and picking up items, not that she needed help, but it lowered her faith in people even more.  
  
Just as she reached for the last bag- her personal carrying case- a strong hand beat her to it. He picked it up, and she looked up to meet the cocky grin she'd seen every day.  
  
"I think you forgot the sink," Kurt said, motioning toward her luggage. "Do you want some help with that?"  
  
Miranda glanced at his luggage- one damn thing, of course- and sighed inwardly. She hadn't thought of another way around "the anger problem" except for the phobia thing, so she had to agree. "Sure," she said softly, without a hello. They were both surprised by her answer, but Kurt recovered and grabbed one of the parcels. She almost frowned as he held it effortlessly, when she had struggled with it moments before.  
  
Knowing he would try for conversation on their way to the gate, Miranda wasn't surprised when he started to talk. "So," he said casually, "what do you think of WWE so far?" Very open-ended, there was room for a thousand responses. She wanted to say something short and pointless, like "good," but remembered what she had to do.  
  
"It's... interesting," she said, bleh I hate this pointless chatter. "I've never done anything quite like it before." She saw him turn slightly and grin when she gave a real answer, and she couldn't resist commenting. "You were hoping for something else?"  
  
"Not hoping, expecting. You wouldn't be coming out of your shell, would you?" He said, pleased, and she shook her head slightly. I don't have to say something every time, she thought, and he laughed. "Should've known," he commented. "You're just getting my hopes up."  
  
Miranda fought a grin, and it was harder than usual to stop. He noticed, and turned to look at her completely. "You smiled," he said matter-of- factly. "That's a first."  
  
"I wasn't smiling," she said quickly but quietly, and he only grinned wider.  
  
"Yes, you were. You're still trying not to smile," he teased, stepping in front of her so she had to look at him. She lowered her eyebrows, any evidence of a smile was gone now, and he sighed. "You can't deny it."  
  
Avoiding his eyes, Miranda walked around him and took two deep breaths. He was doing the annoying thing again, but she had to be proud of herself- she wasn't getting overwhelmed. "For a... grown man, you're very hung-up on smiling."  
  
He caught up to her, and was- still- smiling. "A grown man? You sound like my mother," she didn't reply, and he continued. "I'm 33."  
  
Miranda raised her eyebrows for a second, he didn't seem thirty. "Fine then, you're an old man," she replied, and he laughed.  
  
"If I'm old, what are you?" he teased as they finally got to the baggage check. Putting his on first, he started to help her lift the three bags. She was a little... surprised, to say the least. Why was he being so nice today when he'd done everything to annoy her the day before?  
  
She shook her head clear, trying to think of how to answer his question. She couldn't think of anything, so she gave up on that one. "25," she said quickly. "That's not old."  
  
"Okay, you're not old." He turned to her and smiled, she didn't look any older than that no matter how you looked at her. "You're just a kid."  
  
Without answering, Miranda walked past him. You'll see how much of a kid I am, she thought. Soon enough. Once I know how to handle you, we'll see who's smiling. Glancing back for a second, he grinned at her again. She tried not to roll her eyes as she turned away. Great, now he thinks I've got a thing for him- just because I'm actually speaking to him.  
  
~~~~~ 


	8. It Doesn't Sound Like Nothing

Author's Note: The joy of flying... won't this be fun? Just a little reminder for everyone: I don't own Kurt Angle, the McMahons, but I do claim Miranda, her family, and Jayden. So there, :p.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Kurt had to be proud of himself. Even though she wouldn't admit it, he'd been able to bring Miranda out of her anti-social shell, and even make her smile. My good deed for the week, he thought, helping my manager look less like a murderer. It didn't take much for that to change- in his eyes, he'd been looking at her differently every day.  
  
At first, she had seemed so dark, so depressing, but still powerful in a way. Not the "protect and save me" type at all. Then he had heard those hints of her real life, something much less glamorous than the one she lived now, and saw her in a new light. Secrets were hidden behind that cold exterior, and a lot of bad ones too, by the way she acted. She still didn't put off the "protect me" image, but he felt the need to all the same. Kurt felt the need to know every inch of her and every thought she had.  
  
That morning was the first time he'd seen her look almost vulnerable- even when she had that panic attack she tried to stay in control. She was kneeling down, oblivious to people passing her, and he knew he had to stop and help her even before he thought it. Miranda even seemed to appreciate it, in her own angry way, and had actually spoke civilly. He was pleasantly surprised by everything she'd said, and even more surprised when he heard she was only 25. Eight years age difference, he thought. I'm being controlled by a woman that much younger than me, and- even worse- I'm starting to like challenging her position of power.  
  
Which he kept doing on their entire walk through the airport. He kept pace with her easily and could've walked away, but didn't. Instead, he made conversation- which she kept up with reluctantly- and let her go first in line. Just so he could stand behind her and know she hated how tall he was compared to her, of course. Miranda didn't say anything, even though he wanted her to.  
  
"Have you ever flown before?" he asked casually, passing through the metal detector without a sound. He would've commented on her multiple trips through the machine, because she kept setting it off with earrings, rings, and other items, but he didn't want to annoy her that much. Kurt even learned something new, she had her belly button pierced and kept a stud in it- without showing it off. But, she had to show it and remove it, and he was surprised again. She kept in shape, very attractive shape.  
  
Glancing back at him for a second, Miranda pushed her luggage strap higher on her shoulder. "A few times, it doesn't bother me." And that was all he got for an answer. It was what he expected, barely enough to keep the conversation going but enough to satisfy him. Well, in the question area, at least.  
  
"Flight 32 now boarding. I repeat, Flight 32 is now boarding at Gate 4."  
  
The both looked up at the booming announcement, and he looked at her with a grin. "Care to escort me?" he teased, and she just rolled her eyes and started walking. "I'll take that as a 'yes.' "  
  
~~~~~  
  
He hoped they would end up sitting next to each other, by some odd chance, but instead Miranda had a seat by- of all people- Scott Levy. Better known as Raven. Kurt couldn't understand the man, always mumbling about strange things and being anti-social, but Miranda appeared to get along with him. He felt a slight twinge of jealousy as she said something to Scott, she actually started a conversation.  
  
Walking past her without another word, Kurt dropped into his seat with a shake of his head. Mark Calloway, who had stolen the window seat, looked at him but didn't comment. Instead, he grabbed the headphones from between them and put them on, turning on some old music loud enough that Kurt could hear it. Not that he cared, he was busy looking through a Raw magazine that he had grabbed on the way. And pretending not to notice Miranda.  
  
She didn't say much, he was glad for that small favour- at least he wasn't the only one she didn't speak to, and Scott settled into his depressing self quickly- even quicker than her.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Miranda swallowed once, thickly, as the plane started to take off. She hadn't lied to Kurt when she said she'd flown before, she just hadn't mentioned that she got sick every time. Being determined not to show it, she lay her head against the back rest and closed her eyes, counting the seconds until the sick feeling stopped.  
  
It didn't, a slow creeping feeling went up her throat, and she stood up as soon as the plane was level. Walking to the bathroom, trying to act like she wasn't about to pass out, she ignored Kurt. He'd probably be able to tell what was wrong, and she didn't want any attention drawn to her.  
  
The bathroom was empty- thank God- and she leaned over the sink weakly. Next time, she promised herself, I'll drive. Even if it takes ten hours, and a traffic jam, and a flat tire... I'm not doing this again. Splashing cold water over her face, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Was it possible to look any more pale? Miranda didn't know, but she'd soon find out.  
  
Once the feeling had passed- or at least stopped threatening to make her black out- she went back to her seat and sat next to Scott without a word. He glanced up, met her eyes, and turned off the music he was listening to. "First time flying?" he asked, so softly that she barely heard it. She was getting used to it though, Scott had been one of the first people she'd met upon arriving at WWE, and they got along good enough. Mostly because they both kept to themselves, giving them something in common, and he was brilliant at reading people.  
  
Shaking her head, Miranda leaned back in the seat with a sigh. "No, happens every time." He nodded, some of his dyed blond braids falling over his eyes, and they didn't say anymore. Not to each other, anyway.  
  
Scott had the isle seat, and halfway through the flight he left. Either to the bathroom or to talk to another hardcore wrestler. She felt- not heard- him leave, because she had opened her laptop and was trying up something concerning Kurt's schedule. The seat shifted as he sat back down after a few minutes, and she glanced up. That was a short trip.  
  
Stretching his legs, Kurt grinned at her. "Did you think I'd let you have the entire flight in peace?" He leaned over her and read a little on the screen, and then shook his head. "Do you ever stop working?"  
  
Ignoring his first question, Miranda saved and closed the file and then looked up at him. "Not often," she answered. She saw him about to say something else, probably trying to draw her into a real conversation, but a message popped up on her screen. They both looked down at the small noise, and Kurt grinned.  
  
You have received a message from Jayden Evans: "Why did the chicken cross the road? No, really, why? C'mon Mir, please tell me! I know you and that damn chicken are in cahoots!"  
  
Groaning inwardly, Jayden certainly had a flair for giving emails odd titles, Miranda closed the box. "Aren't you going to open it?" Kurt asked. "Sounds important."  
  
"It's nothing," she replied quickly, knowing exactly what the letter was about. The two of them had a long chat on Messenger the night before, and had talked about everything. Everything, and Jayden's new favorite topic: Kurt Angle. The letter was probably just continuing her opinion of him, and trying to convince Miranda to send her an autograph- along with a copy of every conversation they'd ever had.  
  
"It doesn't sound like nothing," Kurt insisted, twisting his hand around hers and clicking the mail icon. Miranda tried to push him away, but he grabbed her hand then and used it to maneuver the arrow back to her mailbox. He had strong hands- not that Miranda noticed for any reason other than he was holding hers pinned underneath his- and had no trouble getting her mail open. He paused over the message title and grinned at her. "Anything incriminating? "  
  
Rolling her eyes, Miranda moved her hand out of the way and slid the laptop over to him. "Not to me," she answered. Jayden might be a little mad, but he wouldn't reply to the message... would he? She watched over his shoulder as he opened it, and began to read.  
  
So, Mir, did I get your attention? I'm wasting time at the library (remember that freaky book guy who keeps staring at me? he says HI) so i'll make this short and sweet. Kurt Angle= my perfect God. Miranda= evil manager who won't share secrets with me. Autograph= Jayden does the laundry until she leaves AND cooks every meal. Every meal= no more KD, I promise. Get my drift? Jay!  
  
Kurt started laughing as soon as he finished, and then looked over at her with a wide grin. "I take it Jayden's a friend of yours. And a fan of mine," he commented, waiting until her eyes stopped moving to click the "Reply To Sender" button. He could see Miranda's eyes narrow slightly, not angrily but curiously, and he turned to her confidently. "Explain to me what that means, and I'll send Jayden a letter she'll never forget." Pausing, he glanced at the screen again. "And please tell me Jayden's a woman."  
  
"She's my roommate," Miranda answered quietly, "and she watches wrestling- ever since I started watching it." He looked at her quickly- she knew he'd be surprised. "I needed to know what I was getting into," she explained.  
  
Leaning back in Scott's seat, Kurt almost forgot about the letter. "And, were you surprised?"  
  
Miranda shrugged and then met his eyes briefly. "Very." He seemed pleased and got an ego boost out of that, and then started to type. She leaned over and tried to read, and he grinned and stood up.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll take of Jayden," he teased. "Scott will soon be back, I'll give this to you after the plane lands." He grinned once more and then went back to his seat, while Miranda sighed. Should I march back there and claim my property, or should I let him teach Jayden a little lesson? She grinned slightly- thankfully no one saw it- and had to wonder what Kurt was going to write.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Attention all passengers. The plane will be landing in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in approximately fifteen minutes. At this time, we would like all passengers to turn off any electronic devices..."  
  
Miranda glanced up slightly, and she cringed inwardly. I wonder if the landing will be as smooth on my stomach as the takeoff, she thought dryly. Scott, who had claimed his seat again, glanced over at her for a second but didn't say anything. She was glad in a way, mentally preparing against flight sickness wasn't an easy task.  
  
Speaking of Kurt, where's my laptop?, she asked herself. Then she paused her train of thought. Speaking of Kurt... when did I think anything about him? Scott saw her forehead crinkle with unpopular ideas, and he couldn't resist a comment.  
  
"Getting air sick again?" he asked, in the soft tone of voice she was accustomed to. She glanced up quickly, and he shrugged. "You're going pale."  
  
Glancing toward the window for a second, Miranda felt the first trembling of the plane. It didn't feel good. "Yes," she said softly. "I think that's it." Without waiting for a comment, knowing that familiar lump crawling up her throat, she got up and went to the bathroom. This time she didn't care if it looked like she was sick, because she was. It's almost over, she told herself. Just about to land...  
  
Miranda had barely gotten the bathroom door open when someone grabbed her shoulder. She turned around slightly, saw those blue eyes again, and stumbled into the bathroom. Of course, it had to be Kurt, and she didn't want to hear any comment he had. Falling to her knees, she brushed some hair from her face and held her breathing. Don't get sick, she told herself once more. Please don't.  
  
"It's okay, just let your stomach settle and then you can get back to your seat."  
  
He was talking to her, rubbing her back and shoulders- just like he'd done in her office that day. Miranda swallowed heavily, to nauseous to speak, and Kurt didn't ask for an answer. He could tell she was sick, anyone could, and he was content to come and comfort her. It confused her though, what was the reason for his growing kindness toward her?  
  
The feeling passed quickly, not completely like she had hoped, but she had to get back to her seat. The plane was about to land, and it would definitely make her feel better to have the safety of a seatbelt around her during those moments. Getting shakily to her feet, Miranda stepped away from Kurt and toward the door, hoping to walk out with her dignity. And her pale skin and reddened eyes. He didn't follow her, giving her what she wanted for a change- letting her go back to her seat alone.  
  
His eyes followed her, and she sat down without her laptop. I'll give it to her later, Kurt thought. When she's feeling better, and not so against my company. Keeping it for longer was a plus, he'd have a chance after all to play one small joke on her, just to see how tough she was.  
  
~~~~~ 


	9. Keep Your Mind On Me

Author's Note: Okay, I've got to start moving the story a little faster. I don't want it to turn out reallllllly long. Just a little long is all. *grins* So, let the chemistry begin! Eleven Roses.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Ouch. That had to hurt."  
  
Miranda looked at the monitor, and then over at one of the backstage personnel. He must've been only twenty, watching the match and cringing like he was in the ring with them. Another big fan, she thought. Another person glued to the tv and hanging on every word. She still couldn't understand these people, but there was a certain admiration growing in her towards them. Their heroes may be muscle-bound actors and actresses who got paid to harass other people- and, occasionally, the boss- but they deserved the awe. What kind of person wouldn't want to live their dream and get to live as a separate person who could be everything they weren't?  
  
The wrestlers were excellent at keeping the two worlds apart, another thing she had grown to admire. It might be good for the fans though, she thought, if they could see how each person really is. Just a small dose of reality, to show how life can be and just how remarkable some of them are. Shaking her head slightly, Miranda glanced back up at the screen.  
  
She was having a good day. It almost seemed too good, like something so sweet that you couldn't stomach it. Especially to her. This pleasant atmosphere had lightened her mood, and it was becoming harder not to smile. That can't happen, she told herself firmly. You're the manager, the intimidating one... don't lose that sense of control. She knew why she couldn't stand to lose it, because there was that steadily growing possibility that she wouldn't get it back.  
  
Nonetheless, the day had been near perfection up to that moment. Miranda couldn't pinpoint why, but it seemed like nothing had gone wrong. She was overjoyed to get off the plane and feel the steady ground under her feet. That morning more than ever, she knew why people talked about kissing the floor.  
  
I'll have to talk to Jayden, she'll appreciate this. Taking her eyes off the screen, she grabbed her carrying case and opened it distractedly. Maybe I can persuade her to do some cleaning around the apartment... and find out what Kurt wrote to her on the plane. That thought entered her head as she found the spot where her laptop would be, and closed her hand on nothing. Then she remembered. He still had it. Lowering her eyebrows, Miranda stood up. Great, now I have to find him, and get my computer back.  
  
Her laptop had everything on it, all her work, and open access to her email and internet account. She didn't even want to think about what kind of things Kurt could do while he had it, and it was then that her mood started to go downhill. Sighing, she walked through the arena catacombs looking for that all-too familiar blue nameplate. Kurt Angle, and a star. Just remember, she thought as she looked at the door, keep your calm. Don't let him get under your skin. She knocked and opened the door when he called, and froze.  
  
Don't let him get under your skin. Just see- a lot of- his.  
  
Kurt turned around, grinning and wiping his face with a towel, still wearing his ring attire. A blue singlet, with the straps pulled down low around his waist. His skin was still reddened from striking the mat, and he breathed deeply. "Now this is definitely a compliment," he teased, watching her widened eyes and paused step. "I wish I had a camera."  
  
Blinking quickly, Miranda met his eyes. "I was just... surprised to see you. I thought you were with the trainer," she said, regaining her composure and stepping through the door. This is going bad already, just get the computer and get out. Maybe realize he works out a lot to get that good of a body... wait, no, don't pay attention to that. Like he needs even more of an ego boost.  
  
"And, you thought this after hearing me tell you to come in?" Turning to pick up his duffel bag, he missed her raised eyebrows as she discovered she had no reply. Kurt threw the towel around his shoulders and waited for a comment, but got none- which he was getting used to. "Caught you there," he added proudly. "Thank you for the eye contact, by the way."  
  
She narrowed her eyes slightly and walked over to the bench. Sitting on it casually and glancing around his dressing room, she didn't see her laptop anywhere. "Don't get too full of yourself," she replied. "Some people might call you conceited." Like me, she added silently.  
  
He surprised her by laughing. "I see the job hasn't gotten rid of your claws." Kurt looked around to grin at her, he was clearing enjoying torturing her on a daily basis. "Before you tear my eyes out, are you feeling any better? You didn't look so hot on the plane this morning."  
  
Surprised, noticing his quick thinking to cover his own behind, she ignored the first comment. Try to keep that good mood, she advised her slowly rising temper. Play his game for a few minutes, maybe get a real word in edgewise, and then get what you came for. She looked up at his turned back momentarily. And don't pay so much attention to, well, HIM. "I'm better," she said shortly.  
  
"Feeling good, or just a little better?"  
  
She sighed. "Feeling good. Thanks for asking." It was purely manners talking, but he took it seriously. She saw him smile genuinely as he dropped onto the bench next to her and started tying his shoes.  
  
He looked up momentarily and met her eyes, and she lowered her eyebrows cautiously. "You're welcome," he replied. "You had me a little worried when you ran into the bathroom, I'm glad you're doing well." He didn't let go of her dark eyes and she nodded quickly. "I never knew you got flight sick. You could've arranged a shorter flight-"  
  
"It won't happen again," she interjected. "And I don't need anyone worrying about me. You just keep your mind on your job." She didn't mean the harshness it came out with, but the surprise he was giving her had caught her off guard. Why did he need to worry about her?  
  
"And you can keep your mind on me," he answered, trying not to laugh. She was trying to appear tough like usual, and he couldn't resist. It was true, after all, but the way he said it could lead her to so many other things. "Besides," he continued when she kept silent again, "it's not like I didn't do my job. I'm allowed to worry if I want to."  
  
Miranda rarely spoke her mind completely, but then she couldn't stop it. "You enjoy doing that to me, don't you?" she said suddenly. He turned back to her abruptly, distracted from what he was searching for in his duffel bag. Then he grinned devilishly.  
  
"I really enjoy it," he replied. "And, from what Jayden's told me, so do you." Her eyes shot up and she had to stop her mouth from falling open, and he acted casual. "That reminds me, I guess you'll be wanting your computer back." Walking over to another bag, he pulled the laptop out effortlessly and turned back to her. "I didn't go through your things, though," he told her. "I'm not that bad."  
  
"Sure, you're not," Miranda replied softly. She didn't think he heard, all she wanted was to get that computer and leave without another word, but he paused in front of her. Reaching up to take her property, he pulled it away and put it behind his back.  
  
"I heard that. And, I think I'll take that as another compliment. You must be in a very good mood tonight, Miranda." Looking up to meet his eyes, she sighed and let her hands fall down. "I'll tell you what," he began again. "You admit that you get airsick, and that you were checking me out, and I'll-"  
  
She started shaking her head, and he paused. "And why would I do that?" she said. Just because you say that Jayden told you things- how naive would I have to be to believe that?- doesn't mean you've gained the power here completely.  
  
Taking another step backwards, Kurt glanced at the laptop in his hands. "Because you want this back, and I think it would be worth it- to you- to tell the truth." She raised her eyebrows in disbelief, and he laughed. "I'm not blackmailing you, by the way."  
  
No, you're just holding something I want, and you won't give it back unless you get something you really want. Miranda met and held his eyes, begging for that intimidation factor she had been losing ever since she started talking to him. Did he always have to be so difficult?, she thought. She pitied his wife, or girlfriend... if he had one, anyway. Not that I care, she added to herself.  
  
"Does the silent thing mean you're agreeing?"  
  
She blinked once, remembering where she was, and sighed. "I GOT plane sick, once. I did not, however, check you out." He immediately started laughing, and she frowned. "What?"  
  
He grinned widely, showing all his teeth- damn, was he in a Colgate commercial?- and then shook his head. "You're a terrible liar. At least, to me." He just had to add those last words, she thought. Make it seem like he knows everything about me. She looked at him, trying to read his mind, and he stared back. If only he knew what he thinks he knows.  
  
"I don't know what you're trying to pull, Kurt," she said tiredly. "But will you give me my laptop, please?" Miranda stressed the last word, letting her thinning patience show. He was getting really close to getting under her skin completely, and she was soon going to leave- with or without her computer.  
  
She was getting the control back that she wanted, she should've known he wouldn't let her get away that easily. "You're being very polite, for talking to a half-naked man," he said calmly. That reminded her of the whole situation they were in, and she obviously glanced down at him. Grinning, he sat down again and leaned casually against the wall. "Would you like me to do some flexes for you?" he teased.  
  
Miranda sighed, but then paused. She had a hard time controlling her grin, because she realized exactly how she could get her laptop back. Locking darkness with his blue eyes, she leaned closer over him. He slowly moved back against the wall, grinning slightly when she pushed both his shoulders against the wood and put her face next to his. He could see every tone of her skin, the dark roots of her hair, and he felt the shiver run up his spine when she stopped her mouth directly by his ear.  
  
"Do you know what I'd really like, Kurt?" she said softly, slowly emphasizing certain words, forcing her grin to hide as she watched him fall for it- hook, line, and sinker.  
  
He breathed in deeply, and tried to turn and see her face. He couldn't. "What?" he asked, taking the time to enjoy a view he had been wanting for a while.  
  
Narrowing her eyes slightly, Miranda snatched her laptop with a flick of one wrist and was standing back in front of Kurt before he could flinch. "I'd like my laptop back," she said evilly. "Have a nice night," she added finally, turning and walking out of his dressing room. He sat stunned, on the bench in his lowered singlet, and then grinned after her.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Miranda sighed and settled back onto the hotel bed, holding a fresh cup of coffee. She had her laptop back, thanks to a plan she was very proud of, and her good mood had returned. Served him right, she thought. That'll teach him to try and blackmail me.  
  
It felt incredibly... good... to outsmart him like that. Not that he appeared to be the smartest person she'd ever met- not according to her own view, and the words of others- but because he had always been so composed. He had kept every bit of composure he had, and broken down hers. Now she'd pulled a trick on him, and it was memorable. Even more memorable was how much warmth his skin radiated, and that subtle cologne... wait, she stopped herself again.  
  
Shaking her head, Miranda slid her laptop over onto her lap. Jayden might be on, waiting to have another of their infamous "chats." They both had the same feeling, they knew when the other might be online, and it was usually right. Going onto her email account, Miranda smiled slightly when she saw Jayden's message appear instantly. Don't I have a story to tell her...  
  
After telling Jayden about the sickening plane flight, Miranda mentioned the "moment" in the bathroom, and Jayden pounced on it. She didn't even have time to tell her friend about outsmarting Kurt- not that she wanted to brag...- before Jayden was caught up in the flight. To her, Kurt's comfort was the most romantic thing in the world, an unescapable act of his gentlemen nature. It seemed to Miranda that her eyes constantly rolled during their conversation.  
  
Hey Jayden, Hey Jayden, HEY! says: And you didn't think it was sweet? I'm melting here! Hey Jayden, Hey Jayden, HEY! says: you know you loved it...  
  
Yeah, right, Miranda thought dryly. And maybe next time he'll bring a warm towel to my aid. She didn't know why- didn't WANT to know why- he'd helped her, especially at that moment, but Jayden was determined to analyze it to death. I can do that on my own, I'm trying to do that on my own.  
  
Miranda says: I must've been too busy getting sick to notice the tenderness of the moment. Hey Jayden, Hey Jayden, HEY! says: *sticks out tongue* What could be nicer? You're sick, he's comforting you... Miranda says: ... and I'm turning inside out, and it's a plane bathroom...  
  
There was a long pause, Miranda was slowly becoming shocked. Had she just made Jayden- friend to all, outgoing people-person that all knew- speechless? This would definitely be a day to mark in the calendar. Just when she was about to make another comment, remarking at the silence, Jayden proved her wrong. Miranda read her message, and could picture the look on her roommate's face. And the thought: I can't let her get in the last word, not when it involves- insert Jayden's dreamy sigh here- Kurt Angle.  
  
Hey Jayden, Hey Jayden, HEY! says: so? live IN the moment, you just have to ignore those small things. Miranda says: And make a big deal out of the other small things?  
  
Grinning at her choice of words, Miranda couldn't help but remember that evening in the locker room. Did the "other small things" include a set of perfect muscles?, she thought- not noticing how similar her and Jayden could be. Small things indeed...  
  
~~~~~ 


	10. I'm Just A Gentleman

Author's Note: Another small language warning, Miranda acts a bit stupid this chapter, but things turn out "fine." *laughs evilly* On a completely different note, I'm writing this as I decide whether I'll post the first chapter on fanfiction.net yet. *laughs again* I like to be a little ahead of things.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Miranda and Jayden finished chatting before midnight- not too long before, but still before- but she still couldn't get to sleep. Miranda's mind kept racing as she lay in the darkness, and she couldn't lay still for more than a few minutes. The worst part was, of course, that she couldn't understand WHY. Her eyes were watery and hard to keep open from staring into a computer screen, and the day was as tiring as any other. The conversation with Jayden had been like any other, with her trying to talk about "her perfect male specimen" and Miranda thinking about anything but.  
  
Well, not that she ignored him completely, but she certainly wouldn't admit to Jayden that she'd thought about him. A lot. Especially the rest of that evening, and that one mental picture kept running through her mind. Miranda had never noticed before how sexy sweat- that disgusting thing so many products tried to prevent- could make a fit man's chest look. Highlighting each crevice more than usual, making him shine like some... perfect male specimen.  
  
Sighing, Miranda sat up in her bed and brushed stray hairs from her face. This train of thought wasn't going to make her sleep- doing the exact opposite by making her stay awake thinking about it. A dry smile came to her. Who ever knew that my bad side came out at night?  
  
She walked out into the main part of her hotel room in silence, her bare feet making the smallest noise on the carpet. Her skin still felt fidgety, crawling over her like snake skin, and she rubbed her arms. They weren't cold, but she had the need to move. Maybe I should take up night-jogging, she thought. Glancing down at herself, Miranda shook her head. What an impression that would make, me running down the street in plaid sleeping shorts.  
  
Miranda was standing in the hotel hallway before she realized it. Wide eyes and all, she looked around her at the dim lights and then started back toward her door. How'd I get this far down the hall before even remembering it? I must be really itching to move. Her hand touched the doorknob on her closed door, and she turned it. A satisfying click was her only reply.  
  
Click. Clickclickclick. Twisting it harder and faster made no difference, and she muttered small curses to herself. Oh, I am a fucking genius. Letting her head fall forward to thud against the wood, she exhaled slowly. If only this were a car, and then I could run and check the passenger door. Or at least open it with a coat-hanger. She looked down at her hands and frowned. I should've brought a credit card with, or my nailfile. Something, anything. She sighed and glanced down both ends of the hallway. No one. Lack of sleep, itching nerves, and Kurt Angle's damn body do not mix.  
  
Just calm down, Miranda, she told herself. Check the main desk, they must have an extra key card. They'd believe this story, why would anyone make it up? Trying the knob one more time, a reality dawned on her. It's past midnight- almost 1am the last time I checked- and I expect someone to be at the front desk. Perfect, what a situation you've gotten into Miranda.  
  
She knew what she would've done, what she still could do, if she was only the reckless teenager she used to be. Glancing at the door with a vengeance, she almost felt her foot rise to kick it, almost heard the splinter of wood around her. She had to blink and focus to make sure it wasn't real. It seemed so vivid, but slow, like a scene in those plotless action movies she hated. Maybe I need a good action movie, she thought dryly. Go Jackie Chan on the door, get into my room, and clean up the evidence before anyone notices a thing. That brought a grin to her sleepless face.  
  
A noise invaded her thoughts. Soft, but repeating. She listened to it, leaning against the door- yes, like I'll appear casual- and hoping it might be a janitor. They'd have a universal key or something, she reassured herself. The whole scene played out in her mind; telling the friendly janitor her problem, him opening the door without a problem, and her going back to sleep; before she even saw the source of the noise. By then she knew it was footsteps, and she anxiously awaited them.  
  
She heard the sound of a door opening- one similar to hers- and looked down the hall. A few doors away, someone stepped into the hallway and her heart filled with dread. If my luck could get any worse, that will be Kurt. If it can get any better, it will be... Kurt, because he'd try to help.  
  
Damn she hated being right, especially on that day.  
  
Kurt looked at her, focusing and then relaxing immediately. He had a hotel robe on, not much underneath, and a faithful keycard in his hand. Unlike my evil one, she thought, which deserts me in my time of need.  
  
"I thought I heard something," he told her softly, his voice carrying nonetheless. "Miranda... are you okay?" His voice was sleepy, she couldn't believe she'd awakened him with all her frantic pulling on the doorknob. She glanced at the closed door behind her back, and he laughed slightly. "You forgot your card."  
  
She shrugged, feeling more embarrassed that she'd expected, and more awake of how awkward the situation was. She was in a loose t-shirt, nothing underneath, and shorts, and he looked to have nothing more than boxers under the robe. Flicking her eyes back to his face before he could notice, Miranda silently thanked the dim light. "I think I was... sleep walking," she explained lamely. There was a pause, and she stepped from foot to foot nervously. It was colder in the hallway. "Do you think the front desk is open?"  
  
Shaking his head, Kurt stepped back and held his door open. "I don't think so, it's almost two in the morning." Her eyes widened, and he yawned. "Hurry up, before I stop feeling generous."  
  
"Huh?" she said softly, standing almost ten feet away from him on frozen feet. Kurt was looking at her expectantly, and she followed his eyes to his open door. He was offering her a place to sleep, as dirty as it sounded, and she quickly shook her head and moved back to lean against her door. "No, no, I wasn't asking to use your room..."  
  
"You're just planning on sleeping in the hallway?" he replied. If he weren't so sleepy, she guessed he might laugh. "As much as I like this hotel, I wouldn't let you stay out here alone."  
  
She raised one eyebrow and glanced at the doorknob that she had unwilling clung to for the past few minutes. "You could lend me a nail file though, if you have one. I think I could pick the door." He grinned at that, although it brought up memories of a conversation he couldn't keep out of his head- even though he wasn't involved in it.  
  
Drawing the robe tighter around his body, Kurt inspected the door quickly. "I don't doubt that," he said softly, more to himself than to her. "But, I don't usually worry about my fingernails." She looked down, he could tell she was trying to think of another solution, and he sighed. "You can get the staff to open it in the morning. I'll lend you half of my room until then," she started to shake her head and he watched her seriously. "I'm not going to bite you." The old movie cliché came to his mind: I won't bite you... not hard, and he fought a smile.  
  
"You don't have to do that," she argued. He guessed it was her way of being grateful, while she fought back the nervousness at the thought of sleeping in his hotel room. Jayden's going to hate me, she managed to think, almost making her laugh. He didn't comment, but held her gaze with dark blue eyes that said he wasn't going to leave her there. She sighed and then made her way into his room.  
  
His entire room was painted a dull shade of green, while hers was a muted yellow, and she was surprised by how clean it was. Most men she knew would have clothes strewn all over the place in a matter of minutes, but she only saw a pair of shoes inside the door and his duffel bag lying by the couch. Miranda tried not to be too obvious as she looked around, standing in the room for a pause before going over to sit on the couch.  
  
He watched her, raised an eyebrow, but didn't say a word as he walked into the bedroom and brought out a blanket a moment later. She reached for it, but he held it and shook his head. "I'm calling the couch." She looked at him in shock, and he grinned. "There's still a bit of the southern gentleman in me," he said, trying to make her smile. Of course, she didn't, and he didn't let it bother him.  
  
"Kurt?" she said softly, standing up as he threw the blanket over the couch. He looked up at her, the robe falling open just enough that she had to concentrate on eye contact. "You're from Pennsylvania."  
  
Grinning completely, he fell onto the couch and closed his eyes. "Well, then I guess I'm just a gentleman. Go to bed, Miranda. And don't bother arguing." She sighed for a second, and he pointed a finger at her with surprisingly awake and alert eyes. "I mean it."  
  
Taking a few steps, she turned back enough to see him stretch out underneath the blanket and prop his hands behind his head. "Thank you," she said finally, and he nodded without saying a word. "You're really a gentleman." She walked into his bedroom, took a look at the messy but incredibly inviting sheets, and fell onto the mattress. Momentarily, she was asleep.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Someone was walking. Back and forth, at a slow pace, for the past five minutes. Maybe longer, as Miranda couldn't tell while she was asleep. Her sleep was calm, surprisingly so, and being in a different bed seemed to make the difference between falling asleep or not. His bed, she remembered. Kurt. That person walking back and forth must be him, unable to stay on the couch.  
  
Miranda had tried to lay on her couch the previous day, and had been surprised by how uncomfortable they were. And now Kurt was trying to sleep on one, while she stole his bed, all because of her walking into the hallway without her keycard. A twinge of guilt hit her, and she sat up. Pursing her lip, she eyed the closed bedroom door as Kurt continued pacing- probably to tire himself into sleep- on the other side. Glancing at the alarm clock finalized it, she wasn't going to be that cruel and let him go without sleep.  
  
He was the athlete out of them, and her job was to manage him and make sure he could do his job. A job that couldn't be done well if he hadn't gotten any sleep. Her job would be harder too without any rest, but there was a solution. Not the most favorable one, but the fairest.  
  
Silently going to the door, she opened it to see Kurt walking- shirtless, shoeless- in front of the couch. He didn't see her, she saw another incredibly good view of him, and Miranda coughed to catch his attention. Stopping immediately, he turned to look at her in surprise.  
  
"It's a little early to get up," he said softly, glancing past her at his unmade bed.  
  
Looking at the floor for a second, she shrugged. I can't believe I'm doing this. "Go in and get some sleep," she said, finally meeting his eyes and motioning toward the bed. He immediately started to argue, much like she had done, but she stepped forward to stop him. They stood closer, and her eyes froze any complaint he might have. "I'm not that unfair," she stated firmly. "And you're getting some sleep whether you want to be a gentleman or not."  
  
He grinned slightly, liking the slight attitude, but didn't move. "I'm not making you sleep on the couch."  
  
"I'm not going to sleep on the couch," she replied softly. His eyes darkened, confused, and then widened. His mouth formed an 'oh' silently as he understood. Hiding the grin completely, he let her go first and closed the door behind them.  
  
The room seemed unnaturally silent, the air too thick and hot, and Miranda couldn't think of a way to stop it. This situation was odd, she just wanted to get in bed and let her conscience be satisfied. Kurt apparently had the same idea, because he walked past her and gracefully slid into the bed, rolling over to the alarm clock by the wall. He shut it off completely, and then turned to face her.  
  
Her eyes, which had been unconsciously busy staring at his broad shoulders and smooth back, met his. "Which side do you want?" Kurt asked politely, like he was ordering takeout or giving directions. She shrugged, glad that he didn't suggest top or bottom, and he made himself comfortable on the inside that he already occupied.  
  
Laying down on the other side, all too aware of the slightest movement he made, Miranda curled her arm around one pillow and tried to make herself comfortable. The favorable position- another trick made by fate- happened to be curled, facing the center of the bed. Facing him. He'd already closed his eyes and lay flat on his back, with the blankets pulled halfway up his chest. Sighing, she started to go to sleep again as she watched the rhythm of his rising and falling breaths.  
  
Her eyes were almost closed when he exhaled deeply, and her eyes immediately opened to see if he was awake. He wasn't, and she measured the difference between them. No more than a foot and a half was between her- in the black and grey shorts, with a loose black t-shirt- and the already asleep Kurt- wearing nothing but black boxers. Forcing her eyes to look at the ceiling instead of him, Miranda shook her head slowly. When I decided to get to know him better, I never thought it would lead to... well, this.  
  
~~~~~ 


	11. You're Not What You Appear

Author's Note: The dream in this chapter is a real one (as real as a dream can get, anyway) that I had a while ago. I immediately thought of how it could fit to Miranda, so I changed it a little and put it in. As for last chapter, let's get a group "awwwww" for the southern gentlemen of the world, because this chapter has a whole different feel. And, finally, the song is The Tea Party's "Dust To Gold."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Miranda was dreaming. She had to be. There was no other way this could be happening, no other explanation for... well, standing at a bus stop. It felt real though, the wind was rustling her hair and chilling her skin, but she had no idea where she was.  
  
She wasn't alone, but none of the people seemed familiar to her. Their faces looked almost foggy, blurred to only her vision. They stood in a group around a stop sign, on a cold afternoon, with seemingly nothing going on. Another woman arrived, with an also unfamiliar face, and stood next to them. But not too close, it seemed like she couldn't be near them completely. Her face was painted, like a black and white mask, and she watched Miranda with interest.  
  
Whenever Miranda tried to step closer to this strange woman, she'd back away. For some reason, she eventually chased the woman away and went back to the group. They were all silent, watching a large truck pull up to the bus stop. This she immediately recognized... her father's large Ford. She stood watching it, mouth open, while it turned around in the driveway. Again and again, until finally the crowd of people dispersed in two large groups.  
  
Then the truck gave chase.  
  
Miranda found herself running through a field with another person her own age. They stopped in the middle of the cut grass, and it was Jayden. Before either could say a word, the truck- which seemed to be constantly taking more and more qualities of a large animal- circled them. It drove close, almost to the point of hitting them, but never did. After making loops around them both, it left and began to follow the rest of the people.  
  
A man walked out to them, from behind a green building. He was calm, barely giving a passing glance to the beastly vehicle. His eyes were a soft and caring blue, also familiar to Miranda but these she couldn't place. He started to talk to them, to teach them, about the truck and the strange face painted woman. Miranda and Jayden learned every detail, and found a strange way to protect themselves from the- apparently, bad- woman.  
  
They had to have walls around them, the man explained. Two walls at the least, that you could touch and feel the safety of beneath your hands. As long as you had this simple shield around you, you were safe from... whatever they were. Despite being confused, Miranda listened and believed- the man seemed trustworthy.  
  
Leaving them all behind, she found two pieces of cardboard in an abandoned home. It was getting darker out, so she curled herself into a corner with the two "walls" around her. They were small, but they were there. She needed any protection she could get, because her body had started to shake. The black and white woman was coming, the one who chased her but couldn't come close to her.  
  
A door in front of her opened, and Miranda looked up with childlike wide eyes. The woman was there, leaning over her, and grinning. While she cowered, Miranda realized two things. The walls only protected her if they were completely around her- which she discovered as the woman grabbed her exposed legs and dragged her away, and the woman's face itself was coming clearer.  
  
Miranda fell onto the floor, and the woman began to scratch and pull at her. Turning away, Miranda screamed. No one came to help, and she was pulled back to face her abuser. It was then that she recognized the face, and who it belonged to. She looked into it's black eyes, and felt shock freeze her heart.  
  
It was her, the woman who chased her and now attacked her relentlessly was Miranda.  
  
~~~~~  
  
It wasn't the type of nightmare where you jump awake, eyes wide as you look around the room for a killer, or monster under the bed. It was one that the last moment drug on, stilling your every thought and making you believe it was real. Completely real.  
  
When Miranda awoke, she expected her heart to beat out of her chest and hit the ceiling, and to still feel the fingers digging into her skin. Surprisingly, her heartbeat was smooth, and the sensation across her skin was warm and invitingly soft. When she tried to move against it, to find some light to comfort her, she discovered how hard it was. The walls, she immediately thought. I'm not claustrophobic, but I'm not staying in a damn cardboard box.  
  
She pushed at the walls, sliding her body away... and back to the other side of the bed. Her eyes opened, blinking insanely to combat the sunlight, and Kurt stared at her. Narrowing her eyes in confusion, Miranda grabbed what was close of the blanket and pulled it tightly around her.  
  
Kurt had just woken up- probably from her frantic beating against his chest- and he rubbed his face slowly. "What was that? Do you always attack people in the morning?" he said softly, watching her trying to calm down.  
  
The walls were him- although she hadn't figured out why she was laying against him that closely- and she felt her face set fire. "It... was just a dream," she mumbled, shaking her head to get the thoughts out of her head. "I thought I was trapped."  
  
"Must've been some dream," he replied. "I woke up a few hours ago, and you were doing the whole 'twitching and mumbling' thing." She looked away but then glanced back at him, waiting for him to explain why she was so close to him. "I'm completely innocent," he said quickly. She half expected him to pull out a box and hold it in front of him to protect from oncoming blows. "I was just asking you what was wrong, and you rolled over and... well, made yourself comfortable."  
  
He looked completely casual when he said it, not the least bit guilty, so Miranda believed him. "I'm sorry," she said finally. "I hope I didn't hurt you too badly when I... started to hit you." The words felt rotten, sick on her tongue as soon as she said them. Hit you, like she'd done before, but not to him. She didn't know it, but her face had turned away and was visibly hurt and disgusted... giving Kurt a very wrong impression.  
  
He glanced away from her for a second and looked offended. "I never thought I was that sickening to you, Miranda," he said finally. "Forgive me for being a nice guy." Rubbing his face again, still not completely awake, he sat up and then climbed out over her. She watched him, confused.  
  
"I never said you were sickening," she said quickly. "What are you talking about?" He paused in the doorway, she was actually confused enough not to notice everything from the neck down. "I apologized..." she said softly, then shaking her head. It was the first time he'd been frustrated, even angry, and she didn't know what to think or do.  
  
The silence was tense for a second, and he sighed deeply. "The look on your face, Miranda, is worth a thousand words." She noticed something then, he used her name often when he wasn't pleased, and it still managed to sound good.  
  
Fighting back a sigh- what am I thinking like that for?- she met his eyes. "That look wasn't about you. I was thinking of... something else." He leaned against the doorframe, interested, and she could see he was about to ask what it was about. "Don't even ask," she said firmly.  
  
"I'll take it as an insult still, if you don't want to explain it," he shot back, and she narrowed her eyes in surprise.  
  
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, which was much more intimidating than laying on his bed, Miranda still kept the sheets wrapped around her as she stared at him incredibly. "I'm not explaining because it's none of your concern- or your business."  
  
He raised his eyebrows. She could almost see his mind at work, and part of her was enjoying finally seeing him flustered. It was his turn, she thought, he deserved to be aggravated by her instead of the other way around.  
  
"Do you know why I'm an Olympic gold medalist?" he said finally, his voice soft but firm. She kept her eyes on him as she shook her head, and Kurt nodded. He didn't say any more, but moved toward her in long steps suddenly, tearing up the distance between them. Standing over her, showing that "wrestler side" she hadn't gotten used to, he smirked. "Because I don't give up. There's nothing that can stop me from getting my way." He paused, and then regained his serious expression. "I know about you, Miranda. Not all that I want to know, but I've heard enough to understand that you're not what you appear."  
  
Those words hung in the air, and she tried to keep the frantic look out of her eyes. How the fuck did he find out? That neckless weasel...  
  
"So, it's true," Kurt continued, not completely knowing the look in her eyes, but it was obvious that he'd hit a nerve. "What did you do to get enrolled in juvenile hall? Did you do drugs, rob a 7-Eleven, maybe steal a car?" He almost couldn't believe his own words, he was expecting her to explode and scream at him any moment.  
  
I've got no patience for this Your philosophies twist And mess my mind up I've known truth and its face It's the cruelest embrace And you think you taste it  
  
Her face went steel, and she had to pull every ounce of strength in her to stop from hitting him. Oh God, she thought. I'm not supposed to do this, I'm not supposed to feel like this... how is one idiot going to make me lose my control and possibly my job like this? I can't let him do this. I just can't. Swallowing slowly, trying to buy time, she looked up at him and- as disgusting as it felt and sounded- was reminded of her mother. She wanted to scream at him, yell every insult and cut she could imagine... but she couldn't. Damn the doctor. Damn Mr. McMahon. And, especially, damn Kurt Angle.  
  
This what you want This what you need This what you want Beg for free  
  
He kept watching her, waiting for her to crack or to reply, and she blinked slowly. He thinks he knows the truth? He wants the truth? He can have it then. "It matters that much to you," she said softly, almost asking him if it did. Kurt nodded, and she slowly shook her head before meeting his eyes with her own ones of black ice. "My parents divorced," she began. "My father left me, and my mother and I hated each other." She was about to go on, but he interrupted.  
  
You see I've walked on that floor And I've walked it before You could even crawl it I've been through the strangest of mazes Somewhat self induced hazes I got through And now back to you  
  
"That doesn't explain anything," he said. "Lots of people get divorces."  
  
This what you want This what you need This what you want Beg for free  
  
Holding his oblivious gaze, she could feel unwanted water building in her eyes. "But not every child gets so angry at her mother that they really fight." He froze completely. "She screamed at me... I hit her. I attacked every nerve she had left when I was old enough, and I made her feel every bit of pain she deserved. Every time she purposely told me that my father left me, not her, I'd get back at her by making... her... bleed..." Her hands were trembling, and he took a few small steps away from her.  
  
Because you're safe now While hearts are cold You just wait until dust turns to gold  
  
I've got no patience for you Because you've lied and misconstrued You've led us on.  
  
"You've got to be kidding me..." he mumbled, looking at her like he'd never seen her before. Not being able to make any more words, he stared at the floor while Miranda let her face fall forward into her hands.  
  
Why did it feel so bad to tell him the truth? She dared to look up, he was now ignoring her eyes, and she tossed the blanket aside. He made no move at first to stop her as she walked by him with tears brimming in her eyes, but at the last moment he turned and grabbed her arm. Miranda tried to jerk away, and Kurt turned her around and pulled her into his arms before she could object. Or tell him another word.  
  
His mind still didn't want to believe what he'd heard. Parents beat their children in a dysfunctional family, not the other way around. Some kids talk back, sure, but they're not supposed to... make their mothers bleed. It was too hard to think about at that moment, when he had her shaking against him. She must've never told anyone but a psychiatrist, he realized. She'd never been without that black suit and controlled image. And, of all people, he'd finally made her tell.  
  
He frowned and wrapped his arms around her back. Be careful what you wish for, he thought. He got what he wanted, he knew why she held herself secret and what Vince had been talking to her about. It killed him to touch her. She thought she was the only one who felt that angry about someone, someone who you were supposed to love. He didn't know if he should tell her. Would it comfort her, or would it make things that much worse?  
  
~~~~~ 


	12. It Hurts To Talk

Author's Note: I don't know the details of Kurt Angle's past, so everything in this chapter (and coming chapters) is made up. Unless it is true, then I can't remember where I heard it. *shakes head* Don't you love rumours and making up details? That should be my story's title...  
  
~~~~~  
  
Miranda couldn't catch her breath. Hell, she couldn't even get enough composure to stop shaking like a leaf in Kurt's arms. I knew I shouldn't have said so much, she said to herself- even though she'd never thought it would end like this. Why did I have to give him what he wanted? I bet he's so damn proud of himself for breaking these eggshells I've been walking on.  
  
She repeated that thought to herself over and over, trying to give herself reason to hate and blame him. It wasn't working. If he wanted to break her and win overall, why was he still being a "southern gentleman"? She didn't want to believe that it was simple curiosity either; if he wanted to know everything about her it shouldn't be so painful. Telling Jayden hadn't hurt, but then again she never brought it up since then. Jayden knew it, thought about it, realized how painful it was, and just forgot it. So why did Kurt have to go through the same process?  
  
No tears were falling- even though he probably though she was crying her eyes out. She wasn't going to lower herself to that level; she wouldn't let her mother win again. It's done, Miranda told herself. It's over, and they'll never be a person like HER again. No, now you're just stuck with Kurt Angle. Sighing, she didn't hear Kurt's voice when he lay his face by her ear. She felt it though, some soft words brushing by her that sounded vaguely like "I'm sorry."  
  
"What did you say?" she replied, before she could think of whether she wanted to start the conversation. What if all she really wanted was to get out of his room, away from him and his determination to know everything, and retrieve a keycard for her room?  
  
He didn't answer immediately, letting his hands stray around her back for a few moments before pulling back to meet her eyes. "I shouldn't have asked," he said, his voice rough. "That... was what I wanted to know, but now I wish I didn't."  
  
Exhaling swiftly, Miranda stepped back and away from him. "No, you shouldn't have." She almost added "serves you right, I'm glad it bothers you too" but decided against it. His eyes were still on hers, and she looked over to the door. "I'm going for my keycard," she said softly. Since neither of them wanted to have a conversation- and that she was glad for- she should be able to leave.  
  
Kurt nodded slowly, words tickling the back of his throat. He wanted to talk to hear, to lend her any sort of comfort, and maybe make her feel relieved by spilling a few thoughts of his own. But he didn't, and she pulled the door open with her head hung low.  
  
The guilt ripped the back of his throat, and he finally stepped forward sharply. "My father and I never got along either." He could see her hesitate and then pause completely, and wondered if she was thinking how stupid he sounded. "He was a lazy drunk, just laying around and yelling at my mother..." he mumbled to the floor. Now she turned completely, and he sighed. "I know it hurts to talk about it, but it turned out- for me, at least- that telling someone helped."  
  
"I've already told too many people," she replied, wrapping her arms around her chest self-consciously. "And it hasn't changed a thing." When she glanced up, he was in front of her again- when did he move so silently?- and she stepped back once.  
  
Reaching around her to close the door smoothly, Kurt didn't lose her eyes. "Maybe it's because you didn't let them understand everything, or give them a chance to help you."  
  
She pushed away from him and walked around his tired body, looking around at his surroundings so she didn't have to think about anything. "Or maybe it's because I just can't be helped," she said softly. He turned to her quickly, and Miranda's heart skipped a beat. He pulled her close, so she was pressed against his body, and lowered his voice.  
  
"Don't you dare start pitying yourself," he said. "If it's going to change, you have to change it and let people be there for you. Can't you see how much you've changed already?" She met his eyes, disbelieving, and he shrugged. "I don't know all the details of what you were like, but I know that I'm not looking at a violent adult who would still hurt someone like... she used to."  
  
You'd be surprised, she almost whispered. He wouldn't believe what kind of angry thoughts she'd had- and still had about people, even him. Looking past him, contemplating every word he was saying- maybe she'd actually reconsider saying he wasn't very smart- she became aware of one thing. One very important thing.  
  
She didn't hate him, she didn't even want to push him away. No uncontrollable urges were flowing through red-hot veins, making her feel the pressure of trying to keep her anger hidden., and she was still in his presence. It worked, she thought. It was like her mind even went breathless at the thought. I'm immune to Kurt's irritation powers. Finally.  
  
"Miranda?" His voice brought her back, and she focused on his face. "I can try, if you need help. I WANT to help you. You don't deserve to be so torn up because of what happened that long ago-"  
  
"Seven years," she interrupted.  
  
Kurt paused and searched her eyes, her face, straying to her lips. "Seven years have made you a different person. You're better than all of that." He leaned in on impulse and gave her check a soft, smooth brush of his lips. "You can prove that, too."  
  
He didn't realize it, but her fingers were trembling. Here he was, saying he wanted to show her how much she'd changed, and then that insignificant kiss on her check just added to the mix. "Thank you," she said finally, and then changed the subject. "What happened between... you and your parents?"  
  
Stepping back slightly- he has to talk about this if he really meant anything he said- he glanced at the wall clock. "I'm not trying to put it off," yeah, right, "but it's already eight o'clock. Remember that interview with the magazine today? I forget what it's called."  
  
She searched her mind quickly, trying not to let a frown show on her face. Why was she so disappointed? "One of those bodybuilding ones, about your Olympic training." He nodded, and she turned to the door. "I should go, get my keycard... and you can get ready so you're not late."  
  
"Yeah, we don't need another incident to happen like Sunday," he teased, bringing back his grin full-force. The ends of her mouth turned up slightly- the second biggest smile he'd seen out of her- and it only made him smile wider. "I will see you later though," he said firmly. "And we will finish this talk, maybe tonight, whether you still feel curious or not."  
  
She couldn't help it- her disappointment lowered significantly... and might've been replaced with anticipation.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Slowly and surely her perfectionist side was coming out. Miranda had paced around her hotel room at least three times, making sure everything looked decent- just in case Kurt showed up. But then, she thought, what if he thinks we'll just run into each other around the hotel like always. She stopped in her tracks- right in front of the bathroom- and sighed. I could go get coffee really quickly, and be back up here before he could possibly show up. Right?  
  
It was 8:13pm. Exactly eight thirteen, she must've looked at the clock every five seconds. She couldn't help it, the thought of having a discussion about his family- and hers- made her nervous. HE made her nervous. Add both things together, and it became impossible for her to keep her head straight.  
  
She was more curious than she'd anticipated, it was a surprise to hear he didn't have a perfect home life- how could someone who didn't live in a happy-life bubble cheer her up? How did he manage to do it? She'd told him everything she didn't want him to know, everything she wanted to forget, and he had made her feel better. Amazing, she thought with a shake of her head. As he would say on-camera, it's just freaking amazing.  
  
The hours had calmed her down even more as time passed; taking each angry breath out and replacing it with a torturing impatience. Miranda hadn't talked to Jayden all day, although she could only imagine what her friend would make of the situation- which was almost surreal in itself. She rarely thought about it until then, when she sat on the couch silently and looked at everything around her.  
  
She'd been hired for a perfect job. She was traveling the country in the company of some of the most intelligent and slightly quirky minds ever made. She was soon able to go home and work from her apartment, with or without Jayden's company. That froze her train of thought. She would be working from the WWE Headquarters in less than a month. No more traveling. No more of the unique atmosphere... and the people. She'd barely get to see the man she worked with; She'd be lucky to speak with Kurt face to face during the year- actually, he probably didn't even know about it yet.  
  
The perfect job was going to fall downhill. Everything that gave her life out of it- what little life she'd take and appreciate- would soon be gone. Her mouth wouldn't say the words, but she could still think them: He'd be almost gone. And, then what? A day in the office, the one thing she had been looking for, and the one thing she didn't want now.  
  
She wanted the travel. She wanted the small changes that she was afraid to get used to, but loved anyway. She wanted to see the show every night, to feel that aura around her, to have those daily challenges and new occurrences that made life more enjoyable than ever before.  
  
She wanted... him. Damn how she wanted him.  
  
Looking at the clock on the VCR again, Miranda tugged one strand of her limp hair. Wouldn't Jayden have a field-day with these new ideas. She saw her reflection in the glass of the television screen. Hair hanging carelessly around her face, down her back; small dark circles around her eyes; and a pair of old black jeans. Knowing what Jayden would do, knowing what kind of life her friend could bring to this lifeless form, Miranda stood up and walked into the bathroom. She might just have time- as if she knew when he'd show up anywhere- to have a shower, and get changed.  
  
~~~~~  
  
He'd lied.  
  
Miranda had been to the hotel restaurant- casually getting a cup of coffee like usual, the pool, and up and down the hallways. And, who had she seen? Shane McMahon, Paul Wight, Patricia Strat-whatever, and some teenager with over-dyed hair. What didn't she see? Kurt Angle. Not a trace. Not even one damn gold medal.  
  
Her mind jumped to conclusions, the worst ones first, about why. He was freaked out by her, unnerved by her actions and how she might act. Maybe he didn't want to trust her anymore. Maybe he was getting Mr. McMahon to hire him a new manager at that very moment. Or, maybe... maybe he just did it on purpose. Classic, she thought dryly. "Popular" guy with fans humours the out-of-place girl, making her feel that she fit in and was wanted by someone- even if only for a second- and then bringing it all crashing down...  
  
Okay, she couldn't exactly see him doing it, but one's mind tends to go pessimistic when you've been stood up. Anything would seem believable to her at that point.  
  
What angered her the most, was that she had actually spent time worrying and getting ready to hear the truth about him. To hear what his life was really like, and how it shaped him to be the man she... knew. Her hair was brushed to perfection, hanging down her back like some deep brown ocean wave. "Well, the water's polluted now," she mumbled, kicking her shoes into a corner. It was well past ten, and she was going to bed. After all, she had work to do the next morning.  
  
And she was looking forward to it. A sense of normalcy would get her back on her feet, get her head aligned after that... entire incident. That was all she needed, yes indeed. Everyone going back to normal...  
  
~~~~~ 


	13. Just To Give Me A List Of Excuses

Author's Note: I wonder if this is as long as "Wildcat" yet... hmm... I shall ponder this while you read. And, for some reason, this thought is having an effect on the beginning of this chapter. Heh, go figure. *shrugs* *end rambling* Also, this chapter is dedicated to KELLY, all mattributes included.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"I definitely wouldn't try talking to her." Her words were sudden, pulled out of the innermost spaces of Stephanie's mind to fill the dull conversation. Sometimes two people who had known each other for years would get like that.  
  
"You're just exaggerating, Steph. She's not scary or anything," Danielle replied, half-heartedly poking an ice cube around her drink glass. This was the hot topic lately, not just with her friend but with everyone backstage. Miranda Irving, that depressing, silent, unnerving, dark haired manager. Shaking her head slightly, Danielle couldn't help but wonder how Kurt Angle got stuck with such a person.  
  
Jutting her chin out in pure McMahon style, Stephanie leaned forward onto the table. "No, I'm not. Did you even hear what Dad said? She's... just messed in the head." That made them both grin, not because of what she said, but how she said it. That Canadian phrasing was rubbing off on her...  
  
"She WAS messed in the head," Danielle said. "They have psychologists and doctors to fix things like that." Or was the word psychiatrist...? Eh, it didn't matter. It meant the same thing anyway. Glancing over at the brunette, she expected that to be the end of their conversation. About that topic, at least.  
  
Stephanie surprised her again by finding more to say. "Yeah... but maybe it didn't work. Maybe she's been lying about everything!"  
  
Fighting a laugh, Danielle suddenly made a very serious expression and leaned forward much like Stephanie had done. She met her eyes, and tightened her grip on the table-edge. "And maybe she's in a cult too, one of those that cut up innocent animals on full moons!" She watched as Stephanie froze, thought about it, and then widened her eyes.  
  
"Do you think? I was just guessing she... I dunno what."  
  
She rolled her eyes."She's nothing to worry about. A lot of people look psycho, but they're really not." It's just some first impression, she thought. This Miranda probably just seemed a little... odd, and then Stephanie heard some rumours about her and they got changed. Nothing out of the ordinary.  
  
Stephanie considered Danielle's idea, but then pushed it aside. "But, some of them really are crazy!" How else could you account for the murderers and criminals of the world? Some people were just born different, or had been treated different, and that changed them permanently. And she was sure Miranda Irving, with her dark hair and too dark eyes, was a good possibility to be one of those people.  
  
"Name three."  
  
Her eyes widened at this request, what did Danielle think? That she had a written list of everyone in the news and in business who was seriously disturbed? "Um, you name three who look psycho but AREN'T," she stalled, trying to grin convincingly while she dug through her memory for names.  
  
Danielle smirked. "Your fiancé, for one." It was only meant as a joke, but Stephanie's mouth fell open anyway.  
  
"He does not look insane!" she blurted back, shaking her head to make it more believable. Everyone looks insane to some extent, she reasoned to herself. I mean, look at Danielle's freaky-blue eyes, and that weird thing I can do with my voice... But, this Miranda, no, she's more than that. She doesn't just LOOK the part, she fits it like a glove.  
  
The trademark smile hadn't left her redheaded friend's features. "No, of course not," she said agreeably. Stephanie should have guessed that she was humouring her and wasn't finished. "He just has a sledgehammer as a best friend... and that huge vein on his arm... completely normal things..." Danielle teased.  
  
Narrowing her eyes then, Stephanie slid down in her seat with a pout. She can dish it out, Danielle thought, but she can't take it. Sighing internally, the topic changed and they settled back into a different conversation.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Could fate be any more angry at him? Kurt didn't think so. It just wasn't possible for anything more to go wrong, or run late, or break down. If he wasn't so stressed, he might've laughed at it all.  
  
First, the interview for the magazine had run long, very long. The photographer was late; the interviewer had fallen and broken his ankle so another had to drive from two towns over; and, to top it off, he got stuck driving the entire way back to Las Vegas, Nevada, in a 50 speed limit. The City Of Lights shouldn't be so slow, he had complained. He had things to do, he needed his rest and time to work out.  
  
And he had people to see. A person to see. A person he didn't get to see. He didn't want to know what Miranda thought, or what she was still thinking. Well, maybe he DID, but he knew it probably wasn't good. She had no problems getting pissed off at him on a regular day, and then he had made her spill her guts, promised to spill his... and then had missed it. Kurt had almost been looking forward to it, he just knew that if he gave her some comfort and let her talk out everything, she might be better off. Not like he could change the world or anything, but he wanted to help her.  
  
Then why did he get the feeling it was wrong to think he only wanted to help her? Maybe it was because that meant pity, and he didn't want to pity her. Miranda didn't need that, she'd probably kick his ass if he actually did it, and then they both wouldn't benefit. No, what he really wanted to do was... He paused and parked the small rental car. He was at the hotel. He really wanted to see her, and he really wanted to know her. Now, he thought, is it safe to go up there or am I going to be... lacking... in some areas after she's finished with me?  
  
He decided to go for it. I'm a professional wrestler, was his best defense. She can't kick my ass! Kurt could almost feel the medals clicking around his neck, the walk through the hotel felt like going into a wrestling ring. And it probably wasn't a bad comparison.  
  
Knocking on her door, he scratched the back of his head. I'm soon going to be bald, he remembered suddenly. I wonder if she'll mind? When she opened the door, he was reminded of two things.  
  
It was almost midnight- at least, he hadn't actually checked his watch in a while- and she still didn't smile. She wasn't smiling at all, but she didn't look mad. Miranda looked hurt, dead to the eyes even. She looked at him, emotionless for an eternity, and then closed the door. He heard it lock and click.  
  
Knocking again, he frowned when he could hear footsteps walking away. Just great, he thought. This is definitely going to help our business relationship.  
  
The idea to pound on the door until she answered it wasn't a good one, he was sure the other hotel occupants wouldn't like being woken up. So, he decided to see her tomorrow and talk to her- whether she liked it or not. He shook his head as he walked down to his hotel room, opening it and walking inside in the dark. He noticed his cell phone was sitting on the table, I knew I forgot something! The red light was blinking, and he picked it up quickly. It was a message. It could be from her... couldn't it?  
  
"Hey, Kurt. It's Scott." He didn't even have the chance to be hopeful before it was shot down.  
  
"And KELLY! We've been married for a few days, and you're forgetting me ALREADY?" His cousin's new wife continued to mumble on in the background of the message, but Kurt shook his head and dismissed it.  
  
"Yeah, anyway... Kurt... uh, why weren't you at the wedding? I mean, Mom told me something about you having to work, and I guess that's cool... but my wife really wants to meet everyone in the family."  
  
"YOUR wife? I don't have a name anymore?"  
  
"Kelly, just give me a second, ok?" Silence, and he heard his younger cousin sigh. "What I'm getting to is... you're staying in Miami next week, right? Would it be okay if Kel and I-"  
  
"Kel? You might as well call me 'woodchuck' if you can't remember my whole name!"  
  
"Could we meet up with you sometime, Kurt? It's been a while, we could chill on the beach or something, like old times. Anyway, call me when you get in. Later." There were a few more muffled remarks between the two of them, and then the phone hung up. Kurt stared at the phone as he sat it down. She sounds... nice? Well, maybe nice wasn't the best word. Committed, maybe.  
  
Kurt had barely walked into the bathroom when he remembered something. Miranda had a phone with her, most of the time. He grinned and dialed her number as he changed his shirt. She did pick it up, there was some hope, and he knew immediately what she would say.  
  
"Miranda Irving speaking, can I help you?" It didn't even sound angry, just quiet like she'd been woken up, and he had to give her credit for that.  
  
Kurt paused and then sat on the couch. Her voice sounded good. He wondered if she might've missed him. "It's Kurt, don't hang up." She didn't, and he relaxed slightly. "I'm sorry that I missed our... date, I guess. I got stuck in traffic, and the people at the shoot were late, and the interview was really long-"  
  
"You called just to give me a list of excuses?" she said in exasperation. "I don't care why you weren't here, so don't worry about it. I'm going back to work in the offices in New York next week, and as long as we can get along until then, everything's going to be ok." And, with that, she hung up. Kurt, being the determined- almost annoying- person he was, immediately dialed again.  
  
Miranda picked it up and audibly sighed. "Some people like to sleep at night, Kurt."  
  
"And some people don't like to be ignored," he countered. "You said not to worry about it, but you're still going to hang up on me? If you would just let me explain..."  
  
"Are you stuck up, or do you just think you deserve better than everyone else?" That made him freeze, having his own words thrown back at him was a wake-up call. "I don't need any reasons," she continued. "It's obvious that you really would like to just forget about everything I told you, and if that's what it takes to make things work, I'm willing to go along with it."  
  
The fact that he hadn't heard her say that much in a long time made him smile. "If I wanted to forget, I'd leave you alone, Miranda." He dragged out her name, teasing, and could almost picture her frown. "And I don't think it's me who wants to ignore that conversation- I think it's you. Maybe you just don't want to let anyone know you, or... maybe you're too used to that bad feeling to let it go."  
  
"As much as you probably enjoy playing psychiatrist right now, I've already been there and have no need to waste time doing it again," she said, and he could hear the tone of her voice change. Just how often had she been in a room with doctors?  
  
He paused, and changed his position on the couch. If she didn't want to have a conversation with him later, how much could he get her to say now? "Did they tell you who was at fault?" he said suddenly. "I mean, did they try to blame someone in the family, or did the doctors pin in on you?"  
  
She was taken off guard, exactly what he'd been hoping for, and she answered before she had time to think. "They called it 'verbal abuse', and they never blamed anyone," she said quickly. Now, more than ever, he was sure she wanted to talk.  
  
~~~~~ 


	14. It's Nice To Hear

Author's Note: A special thank you to Jenn and Kelly for helping me with ideas and getting me out of my writer's block. Woodchucks rule. And a mean little PS, I hope you guys enjoy the lovely feeling in this chapter, because you have no clue what I'm about to send crashing down. *evil grin*  
  
~~~~~  
  
What has he done to me? Miranda asked herself. She was supposed to be pissed off at him, possibly ranting over the phone or telling him off IF she was a talkative person. But, instead, he was still trying to get information out of her. She was answering his questions too, she realized, that was the worst part.  
  
He didn't seem to notice- or maybe he didn't care- that it was past midnight, and he had things to do tomorrow. She rattled the various appointments off in her mind, and he had a flight in four days to Miami. Why couldn't he just be responsible and let her get off the phone? She sighed again, and he heard.  
  
"Do you blame it on anyone else? Personally, I don't think you could've been... like that... without any reason. It wasn't a decision you made."  
  
She fumbled for the words, and then gave up and sat down on the hotel bed with her cell phone. "I can't blame one person for it-"  
  
"But, do you? That's what I'm asking." His tone was actually interested, that was what bothered her the most. Maybe he's just a psycho who likes hearing other people's worst memories and spreading them around, or writing books or something about it...  
  
"I said I don't blame her, I just... don't like her." She paused and then repeatedly it more firmly. "I really don't like her." It felt good to say that. A thought came to her mind, it felt better to say that than to do anything physically to her mother or herself. It didn't just push the pain into aggression and give more power to the vicious cycle. He was probably about to speak when she quickly added, "I thought we were going to talk about you."  
  
A grin crossed his face, and she knew it. "It's nice to hear someone else's voice for a while," he said. "I didn't think you were that curious." A blush crept up her cheeks, almost on cue, and she rubbed her jaw to force it away.  
  
"I could say the same about you," she said lightly, grabbing a pillow and propping it between her head and the wall. This was going to be a long conversation... "Do you mind talking about it? You only said that your father was a drunk yesterday, is that the end of it?"  
  
There was a pause as he thought. "No. He was worthless, I don't even feel bad about saying that anymore. He didn't deserve to be with my mother, and I think he knew that."  
  
She lowered her eyebrows and could almost feel the room get colder. "What do you mean?"  
  
"He would insult her, never actually hit her, but he made her cry so many times. I used to try and stand up to him, but he would just leave the house for a few hours, and then come back and pretend nothing had happened. I remember him telling the whole family how useless we were, and it made me want to prove him wrong." Kurt paused, and she had to fight for coherent thought.  
  
It was all too familiar, he had a terrible father but had still managed to accomplish everything. "You proved him wrong by going to the Olympics," she said, suddenly realizing it.  
  
Kurt laughed slightly, and continued. "Exactly. He didn't want to be proud of any of us, so I showed off and beat him at everything I could. He used to lift weights in high school, you know, and he was the biggest fan of small-town wrestling." Her mouth went dry, and he didn't leave much room for a comment. "And then I won the Olympics, and signed with this company, and he just... got over it."  
  
"He got over it?" she repeated. "He didn't demean you anymore?"  
  
"All that and more. Actually, I thought for a while that he was dying. It was all so sudden. Like an awakening for him, I guess. He grew up, and stopped trying to hold us back, and instead was proud of us."  
  
She didn't know what to say. There was an awkward pause, and then Kurt sighed. "He died two months later. I don't know if it was a last minute try to fix things to try and make up for a lifetime of it, or if he really meant it."  
  
"He meant it," Miranda said suddenly. "There's no way he couldn't have. You shouldn't even think about him not meaning it." She had wrapped her arms around her shoulders without even knowing it, and then placed them above her head, stretching the muscles along the wall.  
  
"And, what about your father?" Kurt asked. "I can't remember you saying a word about him."  
  
"He left my... my mother two years after I was born. They'd always had problems, or so I'm told, and he couldn't stand having a family. She was so angry at him, and I think that whenever she looked at me, she could see him. And she hated it, so she took it out on me."  
  
While she searched for her next words, he yawned softly. "How old were you? She wouldn't have done anything to a little kid... would she?"  
  
Miranda shrugged, then realized her couldn't see that and glanced at the phone. Some of the memories were fuzzy, and some she just didn't want to remember. She didn't even think again about not being angry with him anymore. "I can't remember everything, but I couldn't have been younger than seven."  
  
"Seven? That's too young, how could she be like that? This is your mother, the woman who gave birth to you, for god's sake. She's supposed to nurture you, and teach you how to be a good person-"  
  
"But, she couldn't. She couldn't bear to look at me, because I reminded her of him. I probably still do." She could almost feel him about to ask 'why?' "I look like him, she said that once. His eyes especially, and my hair is darker than hers ever was. And, she's so easily influenced and can't get along on her own. She needs someone to give her an opinion, to tell her if what she's doing is right."  
  
Kurt had been quiet, gaining his composure after that last outburst, but then he felt the frustration burning through. "She needs someone to tell her what's right, but then why did she treat you like that? Who could've possibly told her that it was okay to yell at a child- her own child!- and purposely harass her?" He paused again and forced his eyes closed, and then the answer came to him. "Your father," he said softly.  
  
"That's the only reason I could ever think of. He always said he didn't want a child, that they were worthless and a waste of time and money, and she must've believed it. Even after he left, she still followed his opinions because she wanted to get him back." She could hear Kurt moving on the other end of the line, and then she heard a soft sound. She listened, while he had yet to speak again, and then recognized it.  
  
He was knocking on the door. I guess the phone is making his ear hurt too, she thought dryly, as she got up to open it. She paused in front of the door though, and heard him sigh on the phone.  
  
"Did they get back together since then?" he asked, letting his hand rest lightly on the outside of the door. She mumbled a 'no', and he pressed his forehead against the painted wood. "You can open the door," he said. "I want to check something."  
  
She didn't bother to ask what until the door was opened, and he closed it behind him. Smiling a little, he looked at her and shook his head slightly. She managed to make one serious thought, a quick thanks that he was fully clothed.  
  
"What are you checking?" she asked softly, and he watched her eyes thin slightly. That only made him smile a little wider.  
  
"I was hoping you wouldn't be crying," he explained. "And I'm glad you aren't. I think that's a good sign that you're getting... well, used to talking about it." She raised one eyebrow then, arching it under a few stray hairs that might've been bangs, and he examined her face. "You're not mad at me anymore," he stated with a smirk, "otherwise I'd probably be unconscious now."  
  
Miranda had to smile, but she tried to hide it by bowing her head and shaking it. He saw though, and stepped closer as she looked back up at him. She didn't have chance to say a word, or to deny she was smiling, before he leaned down and kissed her. It paused both of them, and she felt his warmth radiating out into her. He wasn't trying to be macho and stick his tongue down her throat, or claim her by grabbing her shoulders and forcing her against him; he was just leaning down to meet her and press his lips over hers.  
  
He didn't stay still for long. Taking her relaxation and lack of a fight to be encouragement, Kurt smiled lightly and continued kissing her, tasting her bottom lip and feeling her head lean up towards his. She sighed softly, and he continued initiating contact. First, he stepped closer and held her body smooth against his, and then reached up and teased the outermost of her hair with one hand. Still not objecting, Miranda stayed against him and moved her hands up over the warm cotton of his shirt and around his neck.  
  
She didn't need to think; she didn't want to. He felt too warm and inviting to be denied, and not even the smallest part of her felt cheap or used like she was used to. His tongue teasing hers was only the slightest surprise, but it wasn't unwelcome. Neither was the trail of fire he left down her neck and on her shoulder before returning to her lips, or the smooth movement of Kurt picking her up and then laying her underneath him on the bed.  
  
~~~~~  
  
It would be romantic to say she woke up to rose on the pillow, a soft whisper in her ear, or even a kiss on the cheek. But, Miranda didn't. The first thing she could recognize was a person talking, it sounded like a woman. And then she heard him, Kurt, her I-don't-know-what, desperately trying to get away from the woman. Must be Ms. McMahon, she thought drowsily, and then rolled over onto her back.  
  
She was warm all over, and there was no guilt in her. It was unexpected, sure, but not totally unwanted. She'd never expected Kurt to be that understanding, to have so many truths of his own to tell, or to make her feel that good. I guess he's just full of surprises. Glancing over behind her, at the closed window, Miranda could tell the sun hadn't risen long ago. It was a little after 6 probably, maybe almost 7 o'clock. Strange that it didn't bother her. The cold however, the slight chill that crept up her bare back and down to her bones, was making her shiver.  
  
The blankets were messily pulled around her, how long had Kurt been up for her to get them all to herself? She pondered that, as she tucked her feet into a ball of blanket, and smiled a little. Oh well, does it even matter? Almost like he could sense her thinking about him, Kurt finally succeeded in closing the door, and tiptoed into the room. He hadn't gotten dressed yet- definitely a good thing- so she didn't feel guilty checking him out. Especially when he had done the same thing the night before, sometime in between removing her shirt and his pants.  
  
His back was facing her as he closed the door silently, and she watched with a slight amount of interest. Isn't he... sweet? It felt odd to think of him that way, wasn't he the one who tormented her and ranted about breaking "your freakin' ankle" on television? He turned, and met her eyes. Kurt looked... surprised, but that wasn't the first emotion she saw. Something quickly flew across his face, almost like... worry?... before it was replaced. She dismissed it when he smiled lightly at her.  
  
"Hey," he said softly, strolling over to sit on the edge of the bed. "Did I wake you?"  
  
Miranda slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, wrapping the blanket around her suddenly-awkward self. Thinking about him was okay, but now she felt more than a little shy. Not that she regretted anything, it was just... weird to feel this content. "Don't worry about it," she replied. Her hair was straggling around her face, so she pushed it back over her head with a free hand.  
  
Slowly, almost like he was actually nervous, Kurt leaned over and kissed her once on the lips. She didn't protest yet, and he slid one arm around her back. She expected him to continue, but he decided to slide back into the bed next to her. The other arm reached for a corner of the blanket, and found it securely wrapped around her legs. He looked up at her and laughed, while she fought a blush and untangled herself.  
  
The air around her was suddenly cold, but then was replaced again with his warmth. He pulled her against him, not roughly but insistently, and let his shoulder fall back onto the pillows. She lay on her side, half on him and half off. His one hand rubbed absentmindedly up and down her hip. Goose bumps rose to her skin, and pressed one kiss onto Kurt's chin. The corners of his mouth tweaked, and she did it again. Miranda was going for a real kiss, but he sighed.  
  
His blue eyes met hers, shockingly solemn, and she pulled back slightly and raised an eyebrow. "As much as I want to," he began, "I've got a busy day today. I need to get ready soon, take a shower, and all that jazz." She nodded and lay her head back on his collarbone. It was definitely getting uncomfortable in the bed, and she was just about to ask if he wanted her to leave, when she remembered it was her room. If he wants some alone time to do... whatever he needs to, he can go whenever he wants. She nodded slightly to herself. Yeah, it might be best.  
  
~~~~~ 


	15. Leaving Without One Weeks Notice

Author's Note: The song in this chapter is "One Small Choice" by Audiovent, and I've decided to up the rating to "R" because I like to curse. A lot. And I plan on doing it more often. I guess I might as well apologize in advance (to Kelly probably, and anyone else). You might not like what's coming up, but I'm the all-powerful writer. Hehe. Go me!!  
  
~~~~~  
  
She was right, he didn't stay too long in her room. Not that Kurt rushed to leave, he did give her a nice farewell, but he left sooner than she would've guessed. Especially after the night before. She had some feeling that he might stay all day, do all those corny romantic things she'd never really received. Guess I was wrong, she thought, not really angry but not pleased either. Why did she keep getting a bad feeling about it?  
  
One night stands weren't her style, but she'd never got the feeling he might be one until that morning. Miranda didn't think she'd done anything wrong... wait, scratch that, she knew she hadn't done anything wrong. One more thought like that, she thought dryly, and I'll turn into an obsessive ex-girlfriend. That almost made her smile, but thinking about last night and that morning wasn't going to let her become cheerful.  
  
She had gotten out of bed around 8, ordering room service and coffee and generally wandering around the room. It didn't feel like she should go wandering around the hotel, Miranda didn't know why but she didn't want to. Finally, out of boredom and a headache from the silence, she turned on the television and put it to one of those video less music stations. She expected the music to relax her, but she found herself buried in the lyrics and unable to do anything but stand and listen to them.  
  
Sometimes I wonder how it all would be If only one thing happened differently And time will tell What will become of us One small choice Just one small choice  
  
And what if I had never decided this? Would I be here? Or be gone? And all I've ever wanted Is just to see how it would be One small choice  
  
Sometimes I wonder what it's like to fly So easy One small choice could end my life I'd take the second chance To make things right One small choice Just one small choice Is all it takes  
  
And what if I had never decided this? Would I be here? Or be gone? And all I've ever wanted Is just to see how it would be One small choice Need it Feed it Can't re-seed it Why?  
  
What if I had never decided this? Would I be here? Or be gone? And all I've ever wanted Is just to see how it would be One small choice  
  
And then, didn't the "what if's" start coming. What if he had been drunk, or had mixed prescription drugs? She looked in the mirror and had to roll her eyes. Yes, I've got a lot of reasons to believe that. I'm sure he'd at least act something un-normal if he was drunk, or at least be kind enough to throw up after a cheap come-on. Shaking her head to rid her thoughts, Miranda turned the television off and headed down to the main floor.  
  
And that's when things started to fall apart.  
  
She saw him, and he was talking to a woman she didn't know. That didn't bother her, but when she got close enough to recognize the voice, it threw her for a loop. That was the woman who was at the hotel room early, the woman Kurt was avoiding. So, why was he talking to her and having a great time? Deciding against going over to see him- she hadn't become THAT social suddenly- Miranda went into the cafe. And met strike two.  
  
"I'm so glad she's here. I bet Kurt missed her."  
  
Miranda missed a step, and almost fell. Luckily, she caught a waiters arm and then made a beeline for the nearest empty table. That voice was Stephanie McMahon, how could she forget? And, just what was she talking about? Adding two and two was easy, but Miranda could only watch Stephanie out of the corner of her eye and wait for a real identity to stick the mysterious woman with. She didn't have to wait long.  
  
"I don't know if I could ever do that. I mean, no matter how much I loved any guy, I can't picture myself marrying him and then staying home. What kind of wife is that? 'Honey, I love you, now go back to work and we can see each other once a month'? That just isn't right. Karen should really insist that he work less."  
  
Her jaw hit the table, and the entire room shattered around her at the same moment every happy thought inside her did. Only one thought made it through her mind. Wife. Kurt's wife. She blinked slowly, bringing the still-pieced- together room into her vision, and then glanced back into the lobby. There was Kurt... and his wife. She breathed again. His WIFE. HIS. WIFE. She felt her collar start burning. I guess that isn't a thing people tell nowadays?, she thought bitterly. Or maybe he just saw a really easy chance. A really easy, young fling, waiting for someone to come along and charm her with a smile and a fake story or two.  
  
Instinct told her to march out there, grab his throat, and proceeded to scream out his every injustice while his wife watched- and while she proved every theory about her being cured wrong again. Sure, it might not be the nicest way to handle things, but she sure as hell didn't feel like making some fucking herbal teas and having a heartfelt conversation with him and his wife. Uh huh, his perfectly happy, little, pretty, stay-at-home wife with a big smile.  
  
Didn't I once say my new hell's name was Kurt? Well, she thought bitterly, I guess I was right. More right than I'd ever imagined. Who could've known that he would be like that? He appeared so nice, so genuine, the All- American good guy who swept her up with a few manners and an ego; and then he conveniently left out his wife. Not that we planned on getting "together", but it sure would have been a nice idea to mention "by the way, I'm married", before he fucked me. Hell, he could have just stopped before they finished the deed and mentioned it, and she would've been grateful that nothing really happened.  
  
Miranda went back up to her hotel room, feeling used, abused, and left behind. Every bit of her had been pulled out, shown to Kurt and examined by him, and then left lying on the floor. And he still had no idea. He still thought whatever plan he had was working, that his wife was being as in love with him as ever, while his manager/one night stand was still up in bed. The bastard. She hated those words, but not as much as she hated him at that moment. He was lower than low, dirtier than dirty, and sneakier than she could still believe.  
  
Not once had she doubted his honesty, his own pain with his father. Not one damn time. I bet he smiled about that, she growled to herself. She had been so unwillingly willing to be seduced, taken, and broken apart. That hurt a lot. Miranda didn't even have a change, she didn't even see what was coming. Even now, looking at it in her angry state, she couldn't see any clues. He was- to borrow a catch phrase- just that damn good. I never thought I was great at reading people, but I never knew I was that bad either. Or that clueless, or that vulnerable.  
  
God, it hurt. It was ripping her apart inside. She couldn't help but think it over and over again. His wife. Kurt's wife. I told him everything. He knows everything. He lied. He used me. I didn't even know it. I wouldn't have known it, wouldn't have even guessed at it, without hearing Stephanie McMahon.  
  
She just wanted to lose it, to let it all be over. Maybe just get in her car, call Mr. McMahon and tell her she quit, and drive away. He could hire someone else fairly easily, someone else to fill her many "positions." Then, she wondered if maybe Mr. McMahon knew. It wasn't that hard to imagine. Kurt slyly mentioning a younger manager would be better, maybe she'd understand what the fans wanted more than an older woman, and he could've confirmed that she was right for the job after seeing her.  
  
Oh, shit shit shit. This just isn't right. People shouldn't be like that! They should be locked up, torn apart like they did to someone else. Lied to, made to believe that someone cared and felt for them when they didn't. When all they wanted was a cheap thrill and a quick lay. He hadn't even made those intentions clear. Not a hint, she kept thinking. Not a single one.  
  
She could think back, remember him, and probably get fooled again by another man like him in the future. Or maybe even by him again. And she didn't know if she could survive it. Miranda didn't want to talk to him anymore, and thinking about him wasn't making her feel any better. She just wanted to get away from that place, away from anything that reminded her of him, and burn all her clothes that now smelled like his subtle mix of aftershave and cologne.  
  
There was no need for closure on her part. No one else probably even had a clue what had gone was, what was going on. He'd never been more than friendly in public with her, and she'd never noticed it. He was just too good at covering his own ass. And she was about to go without a word to him about it, anyway. Her mind was already made up to leave, and she started packing her things. When she was about to shove her cell phone into her luggage, she paused and then dialed one number. It rang three times, and then she heard an unfamiliar receptionist.  
  
"World Wrestling Entertainment, how many I help you?"  
  
She hesitated. "I'd like to speak to Mr. McMahon please. I'm Miranda Irving, an employee of his." A former employee, she almost added, but then decided that only one boss needed to know that. The woman agreed to put her through with little argument- which made it easier to tell she was new- and Miranda waited through the various clicks and the eventual ringing. She was about to be connected to the boss, and she was about to quit.  
  
"Vince McMahon speaking." No hello or anything, just his usual formal I'm- too-busy-for-this tone.  
  
"Hello, Mr. McMahon. It's Miranda Irving," she said automatically. No more questioning if I should do this or not, she reminded herself. It's all predetermined now. He said good morning then, and asked what he could help her with. "Actually, nothing," she said finally. "I just thought I would call and let you know that I'll be leaving the company."  
  
He paused. "That's... quite a surprise, Miranda. When did you plan on leaving?"  
  
"Today." She said quickly, "Right now." She could tell he was about to speak, so she continued before he had the chance. "I'm sorry I didn't give you much notice, but there's no other option."  
  
"You do realize that you could be fined for leaving without one weeks notice, Miranda? And that Kurt Angle will be without a manager until we can find a suitable replacement?" Yeah, like some virginal blonde.  
  
She nodded to herself, and then let her fingers play with some cracking paint on the hotel room wall. "I'm well aware, if that's what you think has to be done. And, I'm sure Kurt's files could be passed onto another employee for a few weeks. You've done that before, on a permanent status no less." He didn't know what to say, and she felt no regrets. Funny how that's what she thought around 7 that morning, when she was laying in bed naked with Kurt. If she was in a cheerful mood, she could've laughed. But, she didn't, and Mr. McMahon agreed to let her go. After deciding that he didn't want to press any fines toward her.  
  
Smart man, she thought, when he hung up. I guess he could tell that I was in a mood where no one should mess with me.  
  
~~~~~ 


	16. Then, Things Just Happened

Author's Note: ... and it all comes crashing down... but maybe not. *evil grin* If you think this is over, you might be surprised. Oh, and so certain people aren't totally mad at me, I'm sticking in two of my personal fav guys to cheer you up. :p  
  
~~~~~  
  
He knew what was going on. Even though he wasn't sure WHY exactly he'd been told everything, the story had been laid out for him to see, and he didn't like it one bit. After hearing that Miranda Irving had quit- "the boss" had told him that part of the story- and then finding out the many rumours circulating backstage about her- courtesy of Stephanie- who could help but become more curious?  
  
So, he went to the one person who might know something about it. Might even know a lot, he'd noticed that Kurt and Miranda were closer than most people noticed. Kurt was cheerful as usual, talking to his wife in the lobby. That wasn't the best situation, so he tried to draw him away from Karen. It didn't work at first, but then a few other superstars started milling around and she decided to chat with some people she hadn't seen in a while.  
  
And, finally, he had the chance to find out what was going on. "So, Kurt," he said casually. "You hear the news about Miranda yet?" He didn't miss the slight widening of sleep-deprived eyes, and a curious look. "You didn't hear? Man, I thought she'd tell you first."  
  
Kurt lowered his eyebrows. "What are you talking about, Shane?" The Boy Wonder shrugged, and he glanced around quickly. "I don't know what you've heard, but could you just tell me what's going on?" he added.  
  
"She quit," Shane said simply, and Kurt's mouth almost fell to the floor. "Yeah, earlier this morning. Told Vince something about 'having no other option'." He watched Kurt immediately go guilty, and then he decided to tell a little truth. "Listen, I've got a pretty good idea of what's going on between you two. What I don't understand is why she left so suddenly."  
  
Blue eyes widened, and then Kurt looked around again, making sure his wife was far away. "Are you saying I had something to do with it?" Shane raised his eyebrows, and he frowned. "I didn't mean for anything to happen! You know how I get, I was just wondering what was wrong with her... and then, things just happened..."  
  
"Uh huh. I'm sure you're the innocent one here," Shane said sharply. He paused and then locked eyes with the taller man. "I don't care what kind of excuse you have, but I sure as hell know that you messed things up. Big. Time. You made a great worker get fired and have I don't know how much mental stress- not to mention all the rumours and shit people already say about her, and your wife hasn't got the faintest clue."  
  
Kurt looked at the floor, and then finally met Shane's eyes again. "I don't know what happened. I really... wanted her, but it wasn't supposed to go that far. I didn't mean to hurt anybody!"  
  
"And how old are you?" Shane snapped again. "You come off so nice to her, like her friend, and then you're just using her because you're intrigued by her. How can anyone be so damn naive, Kurt? I've got a good mind to march over there and tell Karen a few things..." he saw Kurt's eyes darken at that thought, "...but I won't, because I'm trusting you- as a friend- to try and fix what you've done."  
  
"Shane, you just aren't getting my point of view here!" Kurt threw his hands up in frustration, and then realized how much louder his voice had gotten, and whispered. "You'd understand if you met some young girl, who was so mysterious and brought out that protective, curious side of you... I honestly thought I was falling in love with her!"  
  
Shaking his head, Shane brushed some invisible lint off his shirt. He decided not to mention the hint that he would cheat on his new wife, and the complete misuse of love."And then what?"  
  
Kurt's face was blank, and then he sighed. "And then... Karen came to the hotel, and I looked at her for a second and, and I just love her so much. I couldn't even think of not being with her. That's why I married her, I wouldn't throw that away." There was a pause, and then Kurt looked at Shane searchingly. "I'm just not sure what'll happen if I see her again. She's probably so mad... angry... and then I'll get all comforting, and I'll be back where I started."  
  
Shane saw the unspoken question, and he shook his head. "No way, Kurt. This is your problem, not mine. I'm not the one who has to talk to her." He glanced over at Karen again, and Kurt watched her with a slight smile. "Just remember how much you love her, and tell Miranda the truth. I don't know how it'll work, but it's sure better than staying here and letting her be the one hurt while you go along happily." Kurt nodded, and Shane gave him a pat on the back. "Good luck, I think you'll need it."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Kurt knew where to find her, he wasn't a complete idiot. Ever since that plane flight when he'd taken Miranda's laptop and had emailed to Jayden- and then had found out where she lived and... much more than he wanted to know. He was driving to see her in a rental, and he just hoped she would go back to her apartment with Jayden. Where else could she go? And, the other question that plagued him, just what am I going to do?  
  
It was a relatively short drive, he didn't know where he'd look if they weren't in the same state as her home away from home, and there looked to be a light on. Very good sign, leading to a very bad conversation he didn't want to have. A younger woman answered the door, and he was about to guess it was Jayden and introduce himself, but she beat him to it. She slapped him, hard across one cheek, and then started ranting.  
  
"You asshole! What the hell is wrong with men like you?! You couldn't just mention you had a fucking wife? That just, what, slipped your mind? And, now you're here, and if you don't leave I'm gonna kick every inch of your steroid ass into the next state!"  
  
That made him stumble back a few steps on the narrow porch, and he raised one hand to defend himself in case she tried to strike him again. "I know, I shouldn't have done it!" he tried to say, but she kept hollering. "I came to try and fix things! She didn't need to quit her job! I don't want that to happen!"  
  
Jayden paused, and then looked at him in disgust. "You don't want her to quit?" she asked softly. Kurt shook his head, and she pushed his shoulder. "You just think she'll be your little toy?! What the hell is wrong with you?! She trusted you, and now you want to make her be your 'friend' again? I can't believe how sick you are!"  
  
Backing up a few more feet, Shane has no idea how right he was, Kurt grabbed one of Jayden's hands to stop her. "That's not what I meant!" he yelled at her. He was pretty sure the entire neighborhood could hear them. "I know I messed up big time, and I'm trying to fix things," he continued, softer. "She shouldn't leave her job- a job she enjoyed- just because I've been... an ass."  
  
"And you honestly think you can fix things?" Jayden laughed, and then shook her head. "I bet you think she's here too, don't you?" Kurt nodded, and she sighed. "I don't know where she is. She was here, and she was a wreck. I've never seen her that pissed off. And then she left. She took the car, and I don't know where she is."  
  
"But, you have to know! No one else would know!" Kurt pleaded, and Jayden just shook her head. "Well, if you see her... just tell her I need to talk to her, and I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Ok? Please?"  
  
Jayden nodded, but managed to get one last sting in before closing the door. "Sure, but you think she'll be happy to know you jerked her around by accident?" Kurt turned away and left, and he didn't know what to do next.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Vince knew nothing. Stephanie didn't have a clue. And, Kurt was left with nothing. Miranda talked to no one, besides him, and he couldn't even begin to guess where she might be. She could be in Alaska right then, training to be an ice skater, for all he knew.  
  
It made his head hurt, just thinking about how much he'd used her and yet didn't know a thing about her. He knew the big, life changing stuff, but he didn't know the little important things. Like, was she a chocolate or vanilla person? Did she listen to country music? Had Miranda ever broken any bones, been to Disney Land, or traveled the world?  
  
Then it hit him, as he was walking aimlessly around the hotel, trying to think of a solution and avoiding his beloved wife for the time being. Scott Levy- Raven. Wasn't he the one who she talked to on the plane? The one she started the conversation with and had made him so jealous? It was a hope, a small one, but a hope nonetheless.  
  
Kurt almost smiled, that one little relief was hopefully going to get him closer to fixing things. He quickly started walking through the hotel, asking anyone he knew or who he thought might know Scott if they'd seen him. He had luck, the first person told him that they'd seen Scott by the pool earlier. Kurt almost ran down the steps. He didn't know Miranda much- not really at all- and he wasn't sure what kind of actions she might take. Pushing that thought from his mind, Kurt almost jumped for joy when he saw Scott and his blond dreads.  
  
"Hey! Scott! Can I talk to you for a second?" Scott turned, looking a bit confused, but nodded. He'd never been friends with Kurt, not really more than acquaintances.  
  
Leaning against a chair, Scott eyed him suspiciously. "Yeah, what's up, Kurt?" he said softly.  
  
Kurt never really liked him much, but he was determined to find Miranda and would ignore the creepy feeling he was getting. "Have you seen Miranda around? She took off, and I don't know where she went. Did she ever tell you anyplace she might go...?"  
  
The look in Scott's eyes darkened slightly, if Kurt had time to think about it he might guess it was jealousy, and he sighed. "What did you do?" Kurt's eyes went shocked, and Scott laughed slightly. "Don't act surprised, it's obvious you did something. So, you tell me... and I'll tell you."  
  
"Are you blackmailing me?" Kurt said quickly, shaking his head. "I don't have time for this! I'm trying to find her, and it's important!" This guy was really getting under his skin... Scott raised one eyebrow, and nonchalantly brushed some dread locks over his shoulder, content with waiting. Kurt sighed angrily and then took another look around. "She didn't know I was married," he said simply.  
  
Scott glared at him. "That's low," he said simply. "I don't think she'd want to talk to you."  
  
"Well, that's beside the point!" Kurt said, in frustration. "Just tell me where she went." There was another pause, and he stamped his foot on the concrete. "Listen, Scott, I don't know you, but I can tell you don't like me. And, that doesn't really bother me, because I don't care at this point. All I want is to find her, apologize, and make her... not quit."  
  
"She quit?" Scott repeated. "I think I dislike you even more now." Kurt was about to say something more, by the way he was pointing an angry finger in Scott's face, but he was interrupted. "Just think, Kurt. The best place to hide is in plain sight." The blank look on Kurt's face was evident, and Scott rolled his eyes. "I don't know what she liked in you- what anyone likes in you- but she's in the hotel."  
  
~~~~~ 


	17. Come Out Here And Finish Things

Author's Note: I bet you forgot about Scott and Kelly coming to visit? Admit it, you did! Well, they're here now, and could their timing be any better? (I also want to apologize for any mistakes I made in my own little time line of this story, I never wrote down dates when I should've. Just... overlook things I messed up, alright?) I hope you enjoyed it, seeing as this is the last chapter. The ending!! Whooo!!  
  
~~~~~  
  
Things have a way of going from bad to worse. And Miranda felt like she was stuck in the middle of it. She'd quit her job- one that she actually enjoyed, it gave her so much freedom and new opportunities- and had told Jayden the entire story and then became so worked up that she had to leave. What a day, she thought miserably. I've had the best part of my life shredded, and for some stupid reason, I actually came back here.  
  
Craning her head slightly, Miranda looked around at the hotel room. Her hotel room. Damn, she could almost smell HIM, but that was probably just her mind- which was feeling less stable by the minute.  
  
Jayden hadn't been much help when she saw her. First, her ever-changing friend was sure it was a misunderstanding, and that Kurt couldn't be like that. He was, after all, just perfect in her opinion. Slowly but surely, she came around to believe it, and then could do nothing more than curse and be furious over it. Like Miranda really needed any help being pissed off. She was at the point that if she saw some innocent child walking the streets, one that accidently said "it's true", she'd trip him. And maybe kick dirt in their eyes. She thought about breaking an ankle, but then pushed that thought out of her head. It was just too much like him.  
  
Speaking of him, he knocked. She didn't have to answer the door, look through the keyhole, or call out. Miranda just KNEW. What he wanted, she didn't care, so she didn't answer. And he started talking, and she started fuming.  
  
"Miranda..." he started softly. "I know you're in there." How?, she thought, but he didn't answer. "I know I owe you a huge explanation, and I will explain, I promise. Just, open the door and let me talk to you, ok?" She snorted, very unladylike, and he heard. "Don't ignore me," he protested. "I'm not trying to be a jerk, things just... didn't work out right."  
  
How were they supposed to work out, then? Is this the part where you tell me you love me, that you'll never leave me, and that you want to divorce your wife and be with me? And then I believe you, and come out, ignoring that you were just with her? So will someone be there to hold me, make me stay and listen while you explain how you've lied to me again? Hey, maybe if I'm lucky this one won't be as big. Maybe you can just run over my best friend, that would put a nice little nail in my coffin, wouldn't it, Mr. Perfect Male Specimen?  
  
Kurt had waited, hoping for an answer, and then sighed and continued. "I know that you don't want to talk to me, but I'm not going to go away. We need to... I don't know, discuss this? I'm married, Miranda, and I should've told you before... before things went that far." He stalled again, and she only rolled her eyes. Well, I'm so proud that you finally figured that much out, she thought sarcastically.  
  
"This isn't helping," he said suddenly. "This isn't a conversation, this is just me talking to a damn door. You can't honestly just want to quit and run away, can you? I always thought you liked this job!"  
  
She swallowed thickly. "And I always thought you were a nice guy," she said, loud enough that he heard. "But I guess looks can be very deceiving." That shut him up, and she smiled smugly, sadly. "Just go away, Kurt. I don't want to speak to you, I want to leave this and pretend that I never met you."  
  
He frowned, probably thinking of another sucker line to tell her. But, then someone spoke, and it wasn't him. "And what will that solve? You can't just run away from things, Miranda, even if you want to. That won't fix anything." As she pursed her lips, recognizing that voice, he continued. "Trust me, I think Kurt's an asshole right now, too." Kurt let out a displeased 'hey!' but was ignored. "But, you can't let him ruin things for you. Please, just come out here and finish things, and be done with it."  
  
For some reason, she actually was listening to him. She wasn't sure if she would actually do what Scott suggested, but it was nice to hear someone who didn't worship Kurt and who could still be calm and so insightful. They didn't know each other much, very little to be true, but damn wasn't he perceptive. Before she could think about it too much, or find some false meaning behind his words, she got up and unlocked the door.  
  
When she saw him, Her fists clenched, and she could almost feel the satisfaction of sending one punch through his sad face and neckless body. One look at Scott, determined to be a mediator, told her that he'd stop her before she had chance to get any frustration out. The funny thing was, Kurt probably wouldn't stop her, he'd think it was deserved. No, wait, she thought hastily. Don't think about him in even the least flattering of lights.  
  
She ignored Kurt's eyes and looked at Scott instead. He was leaning against the wall, black t-shirt and jeans, and offered no other opinions. Miranda was forced to look at Kurt. No words were said for a tense moment, and she swallowed thickly. Might as well get this over with. "Why didn't you say anything about her?" she said, surprisingly calm.  
  
Looking at the floor, Kurt shrugged. She narrowed her eyes, and he finally glanced up at her. "You're very interesting, Miranda. I was just... so engulfed by you that I didn't want to ruin it. I didn't think it would go that far, and when I did realize what I was doing, it was too late."  
  
"Great excuse," she muttered. She felt Scott shoot her a glare, but she ignored it. I'm pissed off, there's no way I'm going to play nice.  
  
Kurt continued. "Besides, I thought you had all my files. Didn't you read the part about me being married to Karen?" Both Miranda and Scott raised their eyebrows, and he lowered his. "Isn't that in there?" Scott shook his head, and Kurt made a silent 'oh'. "Well, I kinda thought you'd hear it from someone else before anything happened, or maybe that you'd already heard it and knew that I was only really interested in you as..."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "As what?" He met her eyes seriously, and sighed.  
  
"As a friend, at best. As a challenge, someone who wouldn't let anyone see the real her. But, then I got really interested, and it just screwed everything up." Understatement of the year, right there, she thought dryly. "I didn't have those kind of intentions, not at the beginning, they just came around after getting to know you." Damn didn't he look like a little kid.  
  
"Which brings back the whole question of why you didn't mention your wife. That's the thing that pissed me off, and that's the reason I've quit," she said quickly. This was getting nowhere. Whoever said talking solved problems obviously had no problems more complicated than opening a milk carton.  
  
Falling lightly against the wall, Kurt avoided her eyes. "I don't want you to quit, that's not the way to solve anything. You shouldn't have to quit just because of what happened between us."  
  
She knew the look on his face, and it burned her. "You know, in your conscience, that I shouldn't quit, but you're still glad I did." His face shot up, and she shook her head. "Because then the problem's gone. No more worrying about whether she finds out, or whether she'll still want to be with you. I guess I'm not the only one who really wants to leave all this go."  
  
"That doesn't mean it's the right thing to do," Scott finally commenting, having heard enough of the conversation going down south. "Kurt, do you think Karen deserves to know?" He watched the older man's mouth fall open, but inside he knew she did. "Miranda," he looked at her, face saddened, and then sighed. "You're better than this. I don't know if you believe that or not, but you should. Don't let this ruin what you've got going. Things are working out for you, and from what little you've told me and what I've heard, this is a rare thing. Don't waste it."  
  
There was a long pause, and then Kurt shook his head. "You must've been a psychologist in a past life!" he blurted, and then glanced up and down the hallway. Finally meeting Miranda's eyes, he smiled sincerely. "I messed up royally, I know. I want you to forgive me, I'm not really that bad of a person. You should get your job back, I'm sure Vince would let you manage someone else, or maybe do something different altogether in the company. I'm really sorry."  
  
Pausing, sighing, swallowing her anger, Miranda nodded. "You're not a bad person, Kurt. I mean, if you weren't married, it sounds stupid, but I think we could've been friends." He looked at her curiously, and she shook her head. "But, not now. No way. I forgive you, but I don't want to be your friend ever again. Get on with your life, remember that you're married, and I'll do what I want to do." It sounded harsh, but she knew it was best. Besides, he deserved it.  
  
Things seemed solved, and nothing else was going to happen. Well, nothing that they knew of. Kurt was just about to turn and leave, knowing their conversation was over, when a yell distracted them all.  
  
"That's him! Shit, he looks bald already!"  
  
Kurt's eyes went wide, and they all looked down the hallway. Two people were walking toward them, and while Raven Scott and Miranda were clueless, Kurt grinned. "Scott, nice to see you!" he called out. "This must be Kelly." The two cousins shook hands, did a manly hug, and Kelly shook her head.  
  
"You're damn right, I'm Kelly. Who are they?" She motioned toward Miranda and the other Scott, who smiled politely. "Is she your wife you're always talking about? I never thought you'd married someone so young. She's like a fuckin' kid."  
  
Miranda raised her eyebrows and then turned away slightly. "No, no, I'm not his wife." Ouch, of all the timing... "Nice to meet you, though. I'm Miranda."  
  
"Huh? Oh, yeah, cool," Kelly muttered, dismissing her and standing around Kurt and her husband. The two Angles were already in conversation, and non- Angle Scott shrugged before looking at Miranda.  
  
"I think I'll leave before this gets any weirder," he said, nodding and turning away.  
  
Miranda smirked. "I think I'll have to agree with you there," she replied. After pausing for a second, glancing at Kurt and the others, she started to walk down the hallway behind Scott. "So," she said softly, once they were out of earshot, "How did you find out what was going on?"  
  
He turned to her and smiled, brushing a stray dread lock out of his eyes. "You'd be surprised what you can pick up around here. A lot of little things get said, anyone who really pays attention can figure out everything."  
  
Hmm, she thought. I wonder how much he does know about what goes on behind these walls. There was a slight silence, not very bothering though, and then they were at the elevator. He glanced at her and shrugged. "Want to grab lunch? I haven't eaten all morning."  
  
She nodded. "Sure," she said, getting into the elevator and leaning against the wall. Once it started, she looked over at him seriously. "Do you think Kurt will actually tell his wife what happened?" Her eyes were a little downcast, almost embarrassed, and he grinned.  
  
"Doesn't matter. It's not your problem anymore. The only thing you have to worry about is getting your job back."  
  
Which is going to be so fun, she thought to herself. I wonder if he'll actually re-hire me? And will he give me another job? She glanced over at Scott. "Do you know of anyone who needs a manager?"  
  
Laughing, he gave her a sly smile and stepped off the elevator. "I might know of a few people..."  
  
And she smiled back at him.  
  
"Bat your eyes girl Be otherworldly Count your blessings Seduce a stranger What's so wrong with Being happy? Kudos to those who See through sickness  
  
When she woke in the morning She knew that her life had Passed her by And she called out a warning Don't ever let life pass you by  
  
I suggest we Learn to love each Other before it's Made illegal When will we learn? When will we change? Just in time to See it all fall down.  
  
Those left standing Will make millions Writing books on the way It should have been  
  
When she woke in the morning She knew that her life had Passed her by And she called out a warning Don't ever let life pass you by  
  
Floating in this Cosmic jacuzzi We are like Frogs oblivious To the water Starting to boil No one flinches We all float face down  
  
When she woke in the morning She knew that her life had Passed her by And she called out a warning Don't ever let life pass you by."  
  
"Warning", by Incubus.  
  
~~~~~ THE END ~~~~~ 


End file.
